When Balance Fails
by AlphaEph19
Summary: AU. It has been eight years since the Avatar fell against Fire Lord Ozai. The Empire rules the known world, yet some still dream of freedom. Prince Zuko, although restored to his status in the Fire Nation, vows to destroy his father, while Sokka fights to rekindle the Resistance. New factions rise, old loyalties fade, and nothing is what it seems. Zuko/Mai, Sokka/Toph
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story is one I've been planning for a while, but wanted to put off until I had a little bit more experience writing fiction. It's a slightly dark AU, set eight years after the Avatar's death. It will be quite a bit different in tone from _Rise of the Uchiha_, my first AU story in the Naruto universe. This story will focus more on political intrigue, romance, and betrayal than on action scenes, though there will be more than a few of those. The inspiration for this story comes from (besides Avatar itself) George R.R. Martin and Robert Jordan, two of my favorite fantasy authors. If you haven't read _The Wheel of Time_ or _A Song of Ice and Fire_, I recommend you take a break from and go check them out - you'll be glad you did.

Finally, this first chapter has been revised since I first posted it – the major changes are: 1) Zuko's servant Patrick is now named Roshi; 2) I substantially changed Zuko's conversation with General Brant, to better reflect Zuko's goal of destabilizing Azula's support base; and finally, 3) I altered Zuko's interview with High Priest Feng so that Zuko does not remove his mask, keeping his identity secret.

Anyway, sorry for the long introduction and I hope you all enjoy the story!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar

**Zuko**

_He caressed her cheek gently, cradling her head in his lap. The skin under his fingers was pale and soft, and looked no less beautiful in death than in life. If Zuko focused on her face he could almost make himself believe she was only sleeping. What a cruel illusion._

_Burns stretched from her neck all the way down to her legs. Most of her skin was charred, and her clothes had been burned away. Zuko's cloak covered her body, but she was far past any thoughts of modesty now. Here and there between burns were stab wounds, inflicted by the spears of Fire Nation soldiers after her water-bending grew too weak to keep them at bay._

_Zuko's eyes rose for a moment, moving away from the sight of Katara's ravaged body to take in the carnage before him. A full century of soldiers lay dead or dying in the surrounding field under the hot noon sun. They had completed their mission, though; Katara was dead. The leader of the Resistance had finally fallen._

_These men would go down in Fire Nation history. Their names would be inscribed in a shrine honoring their memory for all eternity, or at least as long as the Fire Nation survived. Zuko doubted that they cared. Katara had managed to kill over half of the hundred-man unit before succumbing to her burns, and those who died early were lucky. When there was no hope left, Katara had bent the very blood in the veins of the surviving soldiers. Forty-seven men had suddenly discovered that their lungs were filling with blood, and drowned slowly while they struggled for breath._

_That was the scene that had greeted Zuko's eyes when he arrived hours later, expecting a routine exchange of information like the countless others he had coordinated with Katara over the years. But instead of a heavily disguised Katara he encountered dead men scattered around like so many pieces of trash, most with rapidly melting spikes of ice protruding from limbs and breastplates and eye sockets. The rattling gasps of men drowning in their own blood filled the clearing. And in the center of the field, surrounded on all sides by the dead, was the woman he loved._

_The sight of her small body seared itself into Zuko's brain, just as surely as his father had once seared his flesh. Now he caressed Katara's cheek once again, silently telling her goodbye for the last time. He lifted her head from his lap and placed it carefully on the ground beside him. Then he stood and walked around the clearing, pausing beside the dying and ending their lives as swiftly as he knew how._

_Reinforcements arrived soon, no doubt sent by the same officer who had dispatched the first century. They took over from Zuko, who was dragging dead soldiers to a spot at the edge of the field. He had cleared ground for the pyre, which would consume the bodies and send their spirits to the afterlife. Zuko approached the commanding officer, a burly man in brightly polished armor who snapped to attention before his prince._

"_Please finish the burial detail, Captain. Proceed with the utmost respect – your fallen brothers managed to bring down the leader of the Resistance." After years of dreading this outcome, he was able to say the words without his voice shaking. The news spread through the ranks of the Fire Nation soldiers like wildfire, sparking murmurs that grew steadily louder._

"_She's dead… The water-witch is dead… The prince killed her… My god, look at the bodies…"_

"_Yes sir! Honor to serve!" the captain's voice brought Zuko back from listening to the lowered voices._

_Zuko returned the man's sharp salute, and stood off to the side as the two centuries began the arduous task of gathering the bodies for the pyre. By the time night fell the corpses were assembled on top of a makeshift pile of brush and tree branches. The captain waited respectfully for Zuko to light the pyre. As the highest-ranking Fire Nation officer present, it was his right to set the first flame._

_He stood rigidly at attention while the bodies burned. The two hundred men around him did the same, thinking their prince was honoring the fallen Fire Nation heroes. They could not possibly know that he was staring fixedly at the dancing flames in order to keep from looking at the one corpse not on the pyre. As an enemy of the Fire Nation, Katara would not be allowed the cleansing release of cremation. And because she was an enemy leader her body would be brought back to the Fire Nation capital, and put on display before every village they passed on the way._

_Zuko imagined that the flames from the pyre were raging in his chest as well, searing him from within. It was over. Nothing could ever be good or pure again. His heart felt like a piece of charcoal, hard and burnt and blackened. After years of war and pain, after all the moments of fierce joy and crushing despair, Zuko was hopelessly, completely alone._

oOoOo

The rising sun sent its rays through an open window of the palace and into a small, lightly-furnished room, waking Zuko from the dream that plagued him almost every night. It had been especially vivid this time, but that was unsurprising. A year ago today, the Resistance had been shattered. Today was a national holiday, dedicated to the memory of the men who had fought against the Fire Nation's single most dangerous enemy since the Avatar. One hundred dead men, and one still living. Zuko grimaced. Today the Fire Nation court would honor him for killing the woman he had loved. The gods, if they existed, had a cruel sense of irony.

There came a light rapping on the door, distracting Zuko from his somber musings.

"You may enter," he said quietly. The gleaming mahogany door swung open without a whisper, revealing a young man in the livery of a servant of the Fire Nation royal family. He carried a silver tray piled high with eggs, ham, fruit, and various delicacies from different parts of the world. Before the fall of the Avatar and the Night of Destiny, much of the food on this plate would have been impossible to find. But after the fall of Ba Sing Se and the subsequent consolidation, trade routes were bringing products from every corner of the colonized world back to the Fire Nation capital.

Zuko's manservant came forward, depositing the tray on the richly upholstered bed.

"Thank you, Roshi."

The young man bowed low, and turned smartly without a word to draw a bath in the adjoining room. The man was a singularly poor conversationalist, not that Zuko had ever tried to draw him out. Roshi was actually his sister's creature, a spy paid to keep an eye on Zuko and report his movements to the Princess. The young man was surprisingly subtle, but Zuko had noticed several times that some of his belongings weren't quite where he had left them. He hadn't been surprised to discover that Roshi was a spy; Azula was famously paranoid, and perhaps with good reason.

Zuko permitted himself a small smile, which was about as much mirth as he could find within himself these days. It was ironic that he had only become the target of his sister's suspicions after supposedly killing Katara. It made sense, in a way, because the popularity he had gained from that ill-fated triumph made him a much more dangerous opponent politically.

However, the scrutiny had begun at the exact time when he no longer had anything treasonous left to hide. The Resistance was gone, collapsing almost immediately when its leader and symbolic figurehead had died. And Zuko's intelligence reports, which he had managed to deliver to the agents working against the Fire Nation's brutal campaigns for seven long years, were long since burned. Not that Azula would have found any evidence of treachery if she had began watching him sooner; he had never been stupid enough to keep his reports in his chambers.

Zuko took his time with breakfast, slowly eating grapes one at a time and frequently putting his utensils down to wipe his mouth with the embroidered napkin. It would be foolish to dismiss his manservant, because Azula would simply find another way to spy on him. But he could make the young spy wait. Until Zuko decided to take his bath, Roshi was required to stand ready with a towel over his arm. If possible, Zuko would have liked to make him wait all day. But that would serve no purpose besides giving him a petty sense of satisfaction. Besides, today's festivities were at least partly in his honor and it wouldn't do to be late.

Zuko put his tray aside and threw off his red silk sheets. He entered the next room and slipped out of his richly-embroidered nightgown, which was covered in a pattern of dancing flames. Roshi took the robe and folded it efficiently, while Zuko lowered himself into the marble bathtub with a satisfied sigh.

_And anyway, _Zuko contemplated while scrubbing himself idly,_ why whip the dog when it's only following the commands of its owner? Better to kill the owner._ Although, Zuko thought after a moment, it was really Azula who was most like a dog; a feral, rabid dog ready to snap at friend and foe alike.

It was fairly obvious to anyone with a sufficiently privileged position in court that Azula was not fully in her right mind. Her rages were legendary, and her paranoia was as dangerous to her political allies as her potential enemies. But she was the Princess and Fire Lord Ozai's heir, beloved of the Emperor now calling himself a god.

Possibly even more to the point, anyone stupid enough to cross Azula soon found out why she had made it so far with only a tenuous grip on her sanity. Her firebending was said to be second only to the Fire Lord himself, and she had proved again and again in Agni Kai and on the battlefield that insanity was no barrier to power.

Zuko often wondered how he would compare in a fight with Azula. Back when the Avatar was still alive, Azula had been by far the more powerful. But Zuko had learned a few tricks of his own since then. Of course, he had been far too valuable to the Resistance to risk his position in a duel with his sister.

His position in the Fire Nation was the result of a plan put in place back when the Avatar had been alive. Iroh had finally told Zuko everything about his own allegiance, and after Zuko's severe sickness in Ba Sing Se he decided to throw in with the Avatar. Zuko, Iroh and Aang had planned out the battle, in which Zuko joined Azula to fight the Avatar. Iroh stepped in after Zuko's "betrayal," but not before Aang allowed Zuko to land a crippling blow. Everything went exactly as planned; Katara healed Aang easily, and the Fire Lord welcomed Zuko back with open arms.

That marked the beginning of Zuko's time as a spy. The fact that he wasn't restored as heir was a good thing, in that it allowed him the freedom to pass information to the Avatar. When the Avatar challenged Fire Lord Ozai, Zuko had stayed behind just in case the worst happened. Which, as it turned out, it did. Aang fell, and in short order there were no major settlements free from Fire Nation rule.

After the Avatar was defeated by Ozai, Iroh had made one last, heroic effort to take down the Fire Lord's dynasty single-handed. Zuko and Katara would have joined him, but Iroh made them promise to continue the fight in the absence of the Avatar. Iroh tasked Zuko and Katara with coordinating the Resistance, and marched to the Azulon gates with his head held high, knowing he was going to his death.

Zuko still remembered that day, when his beloved Uncle Iroh had appeared at the very gates of the Capital and challenged the Fire Lord to an Agni Kai. But it was Azula who answered the challenge, and uncle had fought niece before the gates while the entire Fire Nation court watched from the ramparts as if it were a performance in the theater.

The sight of Iroh falling while Azula's blue lighting sparked erratically over his body marked the first time Zuko had ever really believed that their cause might fail. Even after Aang had been defeated, Zuko was sure that good could triumph over evil. But he lost that faith with the death of the man who had been his friend and teacher, and a better father than Ozai had ever been.

When the bathwater was tepid and the bubbles had disappeared Zuko surfaced, allowing Roshi to dry him with the towel and help him don the first layer of his ceremonial robes. The elaborate get-up took a while to put on, even with Roshi's aid.

"Thank you, Roshi. You may go." Another bow and the young man left the room, not having said a single word during the entire morning. That might be the one thing Zuko missed most from his long-dead childhood: conversation. During his years of exile he had been in constant communication with Iroh, talking about life and love and a hundred other things.

With the clarity of hindsight Zuko now saw just how much Iroh had been trying to prepare his young nephew, and instill values in him that he had never found in the Fire Nation. In fact, Iroh had probably been overjoyed to have a chance to work on Zuko, away from the poisonous atmosphere of the court and the power-hungry Fire Lord.

Conversation had also been part of what Zuko came to value most about his time with Katara. Over a period of seven years she had been almost the only person with whom Zuko was able to be completely honest. While passing information they also talked about the past, and their hopes for the future, and a hundred other things. Before long Zuko fell in love with her, valuing her kindness and courage and coming to rely on her more than he ever had on Uncle Iroh.

Of course it could never have worked out between them. Katara had loved Aang, and it was his memory that gave her the strength to keep fighting a losing battle. Zuko loved her in silence, and gave every ounce of his being to her cause. His only reward was scattered conversations and hurried words, all the more precious for their scarcity.

By now Zuko was used to keeping silent. In the Capital every conversation was a code, and you kept your secrets close. But every now and again he missed the carefree exchange between friends, with no hidden meanings and no motive other than happiness in each other's company…

Ah, it was foolish to miss what one couldn't have. And dangerous, as well. In the Fire Nation court words were weapons, and could get you killed faster than anything else.

Zuko looked at the clock mounted on his wall. It was one of the many recent developments from the Fire Nation workshops, and was only available to the wealthiest noblemen for their personal use. The two hands told him that it was time to leave for the ceremony; no matter how painful the memories he would have to face, he couldn't delay the moment any longer.

oOoOo

The sun was high and harsh, beating down on Zuko's neck without mercy. Sweat rolled off him in waves, but one benefit of the bulky ceremonial robes was that it did not show. He remained immobile, as did the nobles sitting with him at the table. Firebenders do not show weakness before the sun.

It was noon in the grand courtyard of the palace. The parade through the streets had been mercifully short, and Zuko had not been required to wave to the crowd for more than a few minutes. Zuko guessed that his honorable father had no wish to subject himself to the prolonged merriment of his subjects. Now the highest-ranking members of court were assembled at a long table covered with a white cloth. Lunch would be served, but not before they suffered through what, to Zuko's mind, was the worst part of this celebration.

A troupe of players were arrayed in the great courtyard. Most were lying on the ground, engaged in elaborate movements that were supposed to be death throes. A man and a woman were still standing, facing each other and performing an elaborate dance. The woman was dressed in a rough approximation of the garments of the southern Water Tribe, and her counterpart was wearing the full-length battle dress and insectoid helmet customary for firebenders. A musician was playing the lyre and chanting in the manner customary for Fire Nation poetry.

"_And mighty Zuko bravely took the field_

_A hundred men, his power overtook_

_The dreaded witch fought on, she would not yield_

_And with their clash, the world's foundations shook."_

Zuko's long years of iron self-control allowed him to keep his features immobile, but inside he was a seething mass of scorn and disgust. That his worst memory should be so memorialized, with playacting and horrible poetry, was almost more than he could bear. Worse, he would be required to make formal gestures of appreciation to the theater company for their tribute.

Many minutes later the reenactment ended with the woman pretending to be Katara falling gracefully to the ground. The table erupted into applause, though Zuko guessed that the enthusiasm had more to do with the cooks wheeling out trolleys piled high with roast meats and elaborate iced concoctions than the dubious merits of that particular performance.

The players bowed first to Fire Lord Ozai, who was sitting in a large chair, almost a movable throne, at the end of the long table. He nodded his head in gracious acceptance. Then they bowed to Zuko. He stood up, knowing what was expected.

"I am honored beyond words by your gift to me, and to all of the brave soldiers who fought for our nation." Zuko spoke loudly, projecting his voice to fill the courtyard and echo back from the high stone walls. "Please, allow me to share my gratitude."

The musician walked forward, lyre tucked under his arm, and sank to his knees before the assembled nobility. Zuko grasped his arm and pressed a small purse of money into his hand, and then wasted no time returning to his seat. The players filed out of the courtyard while the cooks advanced on the table with the banquet. Within moments the table was overflowing. Zuko took a sip of his iced wine and delighted in the refreshing chill after so long in the sun, but made no move toward the food. The pageantry wasn't quite finished yet.

At the head of the long table, the Fire Lord got to his feet. A hush descended over the court, and all eyes swiveled to focus on the self-styled God-King Ozai.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! You are all here today to celebrate a great victory. When we defeated the Avatar eight years ago we thought we had won." _Gods,_ thought Zuko in exasperation, _aren't you tired of using the royal 'we' yet?_

"But the misguided Resistance refused to see our glorious purpose, and remained a thorn in our side for seven years. The witch who led them was a bane to all firebenders, and there were some who did not even believe she was human."

That was almost true, in a way. To her soldiers, and the people suffering under Fire Nation brutality, Katara was more than human. She was the invincible waterbender, who kept fighting where the Avatar had failed. To the Fire Nation, she was a demon in human form, a wraith used by parents to scare their children into obedience. Only with Zuko and her brother Sokka was Katara able to drop the mask she wore, and be vulnerable for a few minutes.

Not that she was vulnerable very often. After Aang's death Katara became like one possessed. She wouldn't let anything get in the way of her fight against the Fire Nation.

It was funny, Zuko mused, how things tended to run full circle. Katara had been driven to her role by Aang's ghost, and now it would be Katara's ghost riding at his shoulder. He wondered if his memory would ever spur anyone forward. But then, that would require someone close enough to miss him when he was gone. Zuko had no one.

The Fire Lord continued his melodrama for a while, elaborating on Katara's victories and the spell she had cast on the countryside, and in the hearts of peasants and slaves.

"But a year ago, we found that she was human after all. And the man who defeated her is with us today. Our son, Prince Zuko." Ozai ended with a flourish not far different from the musician's at the end of his poem. A round of applause went down the table, and once again Zuko stood.

The sea of faces turned towards him. He saw Admiral Kai, the officer in charge of the Fire Nation's grand fleet. There was General Brant, Supreme Commander of the Fire Nation Armed Forces. High Priest Feng and his Lesser Council, and many other noblemen of the court. At the end of the table was the God-King Ozai, and seated at his right was Azula. All in all, a perfect audience for a performance of his own.

"Your Majesty, I am humbled by your gracious praise. It is not I who deserve this celebration, but the valiant soldiers who gave their lives and managed to weaken the water-witch so that I stood a chance." He saw the smiles approving of his humility, and had to stifle a hysterical urge to laugh.

"But the praise should not stop with me, or with those honored heroes. We should also honor my esteemed sister, Princess Azula." The smiles slipped then, and faces turned to see how Azula would react to this strange statement. She only smiled, though her eyes glinted dangerously.

"Though she was unable to take the field and hunt for the witch or her Resistance movement, she was still able to coordinate the search efforts from the Palace. It would be the height of folly to heap all the praise on one man, or even one hundred and one men, and ignore her efforts which spearheaded seven years of effort in service to our nation. To Princess Azula!" Zuko raised his glass to the sky, then drained it before anyone could follow suit.

A shocked silence followed after the gauntlet he had thrown down. To bring up the seven years of failure and assign her sole responsibility, during his own celebration no less, was tantamount to a declaration of war. Well, that was what Zuko was going to give her. He met his sister's eyes and held her gaze, enjoying the frustrated rage that she was barely managing to hold in check.

Some diplomatic person at the table realized the tension needed a quick outlet. "To Princess Azula and Prince Zuko! All hail God-King Ozai!" The court gladly pounced on this out and toasted the royal family.

Zuko sat down and tore into a haunch of pork with savage satisfaction. He wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. His family could celebrate now. But when those soldiers had killed Katara they had cut the strings keeping Zuko in the shadows. And the world would burn before he was done.

oOoOo

_To the Esteemed General Brant,_

_Your presence is courteously requested this evening in the Flowing Blossom Garden._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Crown Prince Zuko_

Zuko signed his name with a flourish and set his quill to rest next to the inkwell. The letter itself he folded carefully and sealed with a blob of wax. His personal seal came next, pressing into the hot wax and leaving an impression of a hand holding a flame. He rang the bell hanging down from a thick braided cord by his desk.

The door opened after a few minutes and Roshi entered, bowing low.

"Ah, hello Roshi. I need you to run an errand. Please deliver this letter to General Brant. It is of the utmost importance."

Roshi received the letter with another bow, and no discernable reaction other than a slight widening of his eyes.

"Right away, your highness." He turned on his heel and rushed off to deliver the message.

He really was very good, Zuko decided. You could almost believe he was nothing more than the unflappable servant. Zuko sighed in contentment. Everything was much easier when you knew who the spies were.

Zuko settled himself into a comfortable armchair and took a book down from the top shelf of his personal library. Avatar Roku's _History of the Fire Nation_. It was a banned book in most parts of the Fire Nation's empire. It contained a remarkably thorough exploration of the rise of Fire Nation power, though it stopped years before the Fire Nation began their aggressive expansion.

In his youth Zuko had never been one for reading. Books were for old men, or fuel for fire. It wasn't until Zuko found himself stranded in the Fire Nation that he realized what a solace books could be, and how useful to his cause. Now a book felt comfortable in his hands, and Zuko filled his free time with researching his country's past.

Mere hours later, three loud raps sounded on his door.

_Azula certainly wastes no time._

"Come in," Zuko called.

The door swung open with enough force that it hit the wall with a crash. An irate Azula entered.

"Careful, sister dear," Zuko said in an affectionate tone he knew would drive Azula up the wall. "You might break the door."

"It's not the door that should be worried," Azula answered. "How dare you insult me in front of the court?"

Zuko only smiled.

"What do you mean? I only wanted to share the honor and glory with my sister, the Princess."

"Save the speeches for the saps who believe them, Zuko. We both know what you were doing this afternoon."

Zuko reminded himself he had to play this slowly. Mad Azula might be – stupid she definitely was not. Even before Zuko had been banished the Fire Lord had tutored her in the art of politics. Firebending wasn't her only skill, and if he wanted his little game to succeed he would have to remember that.

"I worried that your great… _accomplishment_… might go to your head," Azula said in a knowing tone. "I see I was right. But you should be careful, Zuko. Public acclaim is like a drug. Heady and intoxicating. But too much…" she paused deliberately and smirked at him. "Too much might get you killed."

Zuko only smiled at the threat. It was exhilarating not having to hold anything back. This was the first clash in a war that would end with only one of them left alive. The fact that the duel was conducted in words made it no less satisfying.

"I assure you, I have no desire to be in the public eye. Haven't I shown that since I returned to the Capital? I have been a loyal servant of the Fire Nation."

Azula snorted loudly.

"Oh yes, you've been meek as a mouse. When Father first welcomed you back, I thought you would try and regain your position as heir. You are the older child after all. But you never said a word about it. So very… humble. For a while, I even had the crazy idea that you might be working against us in secret."

She watched Zuko carefully for his reaction.

"Did you?" Zuko allowed some scorn to enter his voice.

"You spent most of your life with the traitor Iroh, after all. And you accepted such a reduced position in court without complaint; why, that's not the hotheaded big brother I knew! Not unless you had some kind of agenda."

"And what might that have been?" Zuko asked with amusement.

"It seemed suspicious to me that, despite all our efforts, the Resistance remained one step ahead. We would get close, only to have them disappear like ghosts. It was almost as if they had someone on the inside, letting them know when patrols were being sent out."

"And you thought it might be me? I hope your suspicions were eased when I crushed the Resistance."

"For a while," Azula conceded. "But how fortunate for you, that you were able to survive an attack that killed an entire century of our best soldiers. No one else to share the glory. And now the people love you. Brave Prince Zuko, who vanquished the water-witch."

Azula sneered with contempt, whether at Zuko's accomplishment or the impressionable public Zuko wasn't sure.

"Father always told me to ask one question: 'who benefits?' So I asked myself. Who benefits from a Resistance surviving long enough to be considered the single largest threat to the realm? No one except the person responsible for bringing it down. Now I think I understand why you were so careful and quiet during those seven years – you were just biding your time until the Resistance was big enough so that taking it down would make you a Fire Nation hero."

So that's what she thought he was doing. Zuko was a little impressed in spite of himself. She was almost right, at least as far as helping the Resistance went. Even if his original goal had been an end to tyranny instead of usurping her place as heir. Now his goals were nowhere near so lofty. Zuko wasn't out for justice, or advancement. He just wanted Azula to suffer, along with everyone else responsible for the deaths of all those he had cared for.

It was good that Azula was prepared, though. It wouldn't be as much fun to destroy her unless she saw it coming.

"That's quite the theory," Zuko said noncommittally, "or it would be if I was as cunning a snake as you. I don't know how you function, seeing plots around every corner. But then, even if everything is as you say, proving it would be difficult since the Resistance is ancient history now."

"I'm not going to _prove_ anything. I just want you to know that I see what you're doing. And you'd best be careful."

"I always am. Good afternoon."

Azula made it to the door, but with an actor's timing turned around at the last moment.

"And Zuko, make sure you say hello to General Brant for me."

She gave one last smile, really just an excuse to bare her teeth, before leaving.

Zuko shook his head. If he wasn't determined not to underestimate his sister, he'd be in danger of dismissing her as a mindless thug. Not only did she tip her hand in revealing her knowledge of his plans, she also blatantly gave away the identity of her spy. It had only been a few hours since Zuko had sent the message, and it could only have been Roshi who told her. If Zuko had ever been so careless when arranging meetings with Katara, they would have been caught before the Resistance was a year old.

Maybe she meant to make him second-guess himself, by telling him that she was aware of his plans to meet with the General, but didn't care enough to try and stop him. It could be a show of confidence, a claim that she was so secure of the Army's support that she didn't feel the need to get in the way of Zuko's not-so-secret meetings. Even if that were true, it was nothing Zuko wasn't expecting.

_You'll have to do better than that, Azula. I'm two steps ahead and you can't afford to fall behind._

oOoOo

The Flowing Blossom Garden was one of the most beautiful places in the palace compound. Over a hundred years ago, firebenders went there to practice the martial arts that hadn't yet been put to use in the battlefield. Priests and nobles relaxed and communed with nature while honing their talents. Now it was simply a courtyard where children came for picnics, or the occasional artist came to sketch the small pond, overshadowed by a giant tree on the left bank. Tonight it would once again see firebenders, though they were here for a very different purpose indeed.

Zuko reached the footbridge leading across the pond, where General Brant was already waiting for him. The stocky general waved a hand in greeting.

General Brant looked carved out of granite. Though nearing his fiftieth year he was still in excellent condition, and everything from his military crewcut to his brightly polished boots was immaculate. Decades of service in the Fire Nation military had left their mark in the lines on his face, just as the wind carves furrows into the stone of a high cliff. His eyes were cold, calculating. This was a hard man.

"I was surprised to receive your summons," the general began without preamble. "How may I serve your Highness?"

"Please, General," Zuko waved one hand in dismissal. "I didn't _summon_ you, I invited you. I have affairs to discuss with you, affairs that I hope will prove mutually beneficial."

Brant looked at him askance.

"Is that so?"

"I believe so," Zuko replied. "Tell me, what is your professional opinion of the state of our empire?"

"We are at peace, for the first time in over a century," the General said, his face wearing a guarded expression. "It was your own triumph that secured that peace in the first place."

Zuko waved a hand in dismissal. "Please, do not waste my time with empty flattery, General. The Resistance was the most visible, but by no means the most dangerous, threat to our realm. In fact, I am worried that without the Resistance to keep us sharp, our nation will face a foe greater than any we have encountered before: complacency."

Without appearing to pay close attention, Zuko carefully watched the General's face as he listened to this speech. But Brant's face might as well have been a stone mask, so effectively did it repress any response. "Go on."

"I'm talking about maintaining discipline, in a country with no threats except those from within. Our Empire is built on a military tradition hundreds of years in the making, General. But now that we have no enemies in uniform, there are some who think that that tradition has come to an end. Now, instead of soldiers, we have bureaucrats and priests. Vultures flock to the new colonies in search of carcasses to strip for whatever they can get, and our government becomes a breeding ground for corruption and vice. I'm afraid that in our victory, our Empire will end by collapsing in on itself."

There was an appraising gleam in the General's eyes as he regarded Zuko. "I'll admit, I did not realize you were so concerned about the future of our nation, your Highness. Nevertheless, I am still confused about why you bring your concerns to me."

Zuko smiled, but it was more akin to a shark revealing his teeth than a display of sincere emotion. "Because you are an honorable man. Anyone who knows you knows this. You have turned down multiple offers of Governorship, which would have given you land and wealth well beyond your current reach. That tells me that you fight for our Nation not for status or advancement, but because you believe in what you do. Now, you might think I'm simply another spoiled aristocrat, one with no true experience in war, but I know as well as you do that it is a strong military which holds this empire together. Discipline and loyalty are the foundations on which our very way of life is founded. Without them, we are nothing."

"I agree wholeheartedly." The General's tone, however, was beginning to hold an undertone of exasperation. "And I thank you for the compliment. But I still have yet to understand why I'm _here._"

A blossom floated gently downward into Zuko's peripheral vision. He snatched it out of the air and examined it for a minute, before turning back to the general. "Then let us get straight to the point. I'm worried that my esteemed sister, the Princess Azula, is listening too much to councilors who do not have the greater good of the nation in mind."

General Brant looked unsurprised at the turn of the conversation, and watched Zuko with an expectant skepticism. "Your Highness, that is dangerously close to treason–"

Zuko cut him off smoothly. "I am not suggesting anything about our next ruler, simply expressing my fears about the council she receives. Have you not heard, for example, about the latest suggestion from high-ranking Temple Priests, that the army be reduced to a quarter of its size?"

"I have heard that," the General said, "since I was in the room where it was first proposed. I also heard the Princess dismiss the proposal out of hand."

"I know the Princess and the military have always had a good relationship," Zuko said delicately. In his head he added, _not for long._ "But my sister has always been susceptible to certain… pressures. She is apt to be persuaded that her fears require immediate, and decisive, correction."

That was the diplomatic way of saying that Azula was violently paranoid, and reacted to potential threats with force, force, and more force.

"General, I'm just trying to make you see the danger if the priests manage to focus Azula's fear towards the Army."

Brant's eyes narrowed. "As you are trying to focus my fear towards Azula?"

Zuko made no response, either to confirm or deny. Brant sighed heavily, and scratched his head with one hand. "Your Highness, let me stop you here. I am a simple man. I like my battles out in the open, while politics is all dueling against shadows in the dark. Play whatever games you want, but please leave me out of them."

Zuko could tell that there was no longer any need for hiding his true meaning behind elaborate phrases and misdirection. Such an approach was useless with General Brant, who saw straight through Zuko's smokescreen to the truth underneath. Zuko found himself gaining even more respect for the man, who refused to be bought and held to his duty. It was a pity that Zuko was going to have to destroy him.

"You're already a part of this game, no matter what you might believe," Zuko told him bluntly. "Azula will hear about our meeting, one way or another. Perhaps she knows already. And that knowledge will eat at her every day. She will never be able to see you without wondering whether you're working against her, and that seed of doubt will grow until she can't accept the threat any more. What do you think will happen to you then?"

Zuko could see the acceptance in the General's eyes, and the equally strong resolution. "You are certainly full of surprises, Prince Zuko. In eight years I had no idea you were hiding so much under your meek appearance. But I pledged my service to the Fire Nation, and I will not let threats deter me from my duty. If the Princess decides to remove me from my post, that is her right and I will accept it."

Zuko bowed his head, acknowledging the General's statement. "Then let us depart. But I hope you will change your mind. A ruler like Azula does not deserve the loyalty of men such as yourself."

General Brant's lips quirked upward in an ironic smile. "In the interest of avoiding royal executions, I will forget you said that. Until next we meet, Your Highness. It has certainly been an illuminating evening."

Brant gave Zuko a cool nod. Then he turned on his heel and walked to the far side of the courtyard, his stocky form growing indistinct in the fading dusk. Zuko waited until the general was completely out of sight before leaving the courtyard through a different gate. He walked through the wide corridors back to his chambers.

Torches were mounted in brackets at regular intervals along the hall, casting flickering shadows that danced on the walls. Suits of armor reflected the orange glow, standing rigidly at attention. Zuko imagined that they were watching him as he walked past.

Once in his chambers, Zuko rang the bell for Roshi. He could have taken off his robes himself, but it was his prerogative as a prince to have a servant handle the task for him. More importantly, he didn't want his sister thinking he had anything to hide.

In a few minutes Roshi arrived and helped Zuko disrobe, carrying out his duties with his usual quiet efficiency.

"Thank you, Roshi," Zuko said. Roshi bowed and left.

Zuko snuffed out the candles left burning in his room, and settled into his bed. Then he stared into the darkness, waiting. An hour went by, then two.

Finally, Zuko slipped out from underneath the covers, and walked to his wardrobe. His eyes were adjusted to the darkness by now, but he would have been able to find his way blind. His fingers found the catch on the bottom with the ease of long practice, and the false back opened without a sound. Zuko took the small bundle that was inside and replaced the wooden board in the back of the wardrobe.

The bundle was a tightly folded pair of pants, shirt, and a mask. All were completely black, and showed signs of hard use. Zuko was no stranger to midnight excursions, having found that it was easier to avoid notice if he moved at night. He had sacrificed many nights of sleep for the Resistance.

This was the first time he would wear the stealth suit since before Katara's death. It made him weirdly nostalgic.

Zuko pulled on the outfit, enjoying the freedom of movement that was so absent from his ceremonial clothing. He let himself out of his window, closing it silently after him. It was entirely dark outside, since the moon was covered by clouds. Zuko appeared to be no more than a patch of shadow, slightly darker than the wood he was currently clinging to like a leech.

He dropped, landing noiselessly on the next level down. Zuko made his way to the main gate out of the palace compound, sticking to the shadows and avoiding the few patrols easily. He was up and over the wall in a flash, noting with amusement the snoring coming from the guardhouse in front of the gate.

The streets of the Fire Nation capital were wide and well-maintained, since the area around the Palace was reserved mostly for rich merchants and retired army officials. Zuko kept to the rooftops, jumping from one to the next with ease.

Within minutes Zuko reached the Fire Temple, where only the most senior priests lived. Sneaking into the compound was easy, as there weren't even any guards posted. If the Resistance had still been in action, Zuko would have advised large-scale assassinations to cripple the Temple. As it was, Zuko had a job that was much more difficult than simply killing people.

The High Priest had lavish living quarters. After entering through the window Zuko ghosted through room after room, which held treasures from all around the world. These were the trophies of a man who loved his power, and needed to remind himself just how much he was worth.

Zuko stood over the High Priest's bed, listening to his even breathing. The priest looked much less impressive in his white nightgown.

He put a hand on the priest's shoulder, shaking him gently. The High Priest jolted upright, but Zuko was ready and held his other hand over the priest's mouth.

"Shh…" he whispered urgently. "Don't be alarmed, Your Excellency. I mean you no harm."

He cautiously took his hand away from the priest's face.

High Priest Feng was a wrinkled man of over sixty, and certainly didn't look like one of the most powerful people in the realm. Thanks to the Fire Lord's adapted religion featuring himself as a deity incarnate, the Temple had grown in both size and importance. The Fire Sages, once the highest spiritual authority in the land, had been brutally murdered when they opposed the Fire Lord's declarations. The current Fire Temple was what replaced the Fire Sages, and the High Priest was utterly and completely the Fire Lord's creature. However, he had a fair amount of influence over the Fire Lord, who considered Feng one of his most valuable advisors.

"What is the meaning of this?" Feng sputtered.

"My deepest apologies, Your Excellency. I couldn't take the chance that someone might find out that I've met with you. There are too many eyes and ears in the Palace."

Zuko could see Feng's tired mind trying to process what he was saying. Soon his irritation at being woken in the middle of the night was replaced by his curiosity.

"Who _are_ you?"

Zuko sat down on the bed, opposite Feng.

"I can't tell you that. There are eyes and ears everywhere, and anonymity is my only safety. I am afraid," Zuko began, "that there may be a growing faction within the military that means harm to the Fire Nation."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm talking about a potential conspiracy. As you can see from my presence here tonight," Zuko grinned at the priest, "I have ways of getting around the Capital unnoticed. And I've heard rumors that there is unrest growing. It may be linked with the end of the Resistance, since everyone believes that our troubles are at an end. Now would be the perfect time to strike. I don't know who is behind it, but I think some high-ranking Army officials might be involved."

"What do you suspect?" Feng asked, sounding a little panicky.

"Does it not seem strange to you that the military is fighting so hard to stay at full capacity?" Feng's eyes widened.

"Exactly," Zuko said with a nod. "We've conquered every nation in the known world, and ended the Resistance. Yet certain people in court fight tooth and nail to keep from giving up an ounce of military power. We have far more manpower than we need to administrate already occupied states. The citizens themselves keep order, out of fear of reprisals. Yet still officers complain about the military restrictions. Why would they do that if the military wasn't in some way involved?"

Feng was gulping like a fish.

"These are… these are very serious accusations," he said weakly.

"I know," Zuko agreed. "There's no way to know for sure who's behind this, but from what I've heard I don't doubt the existence of a conspiracy for a second. The problem is I don't know how far its reach might be. But after all, it only takes one man giving the orders, and an army can become a weapon far more dangerous to its wielder than anyone else.

"Your Excellency, you're the only one who has a chance of stopping this. The Fire Lord listens to you. If you point out to him the danger posed by the armies, and urge him to reduce the size of the army or put more safeguards in place, you can cut off the potential for revolt at the knees. Meanwhile, I can continue my search to uncover the full depth of the conspiracy. Once you know them all you can denounce them to the Fire Lord, but for now you have to proceed delicately."

Feng took a deep breath. Zuko was pleased at how things were going. He meant to overload the High Priest with information, keep things moving too fast for him to question, and hopefully he would go right along with his plans. After all, it wasn't like Feng hadn't already counseled the Fire Lord to reduce the size of the army. In fact, the restrictions on military presence in the colonies were largely thanks to Feng's advice. If Feng believed Zuko, he wouldn't do anything more than become a bit more… urgent, in his counsel.

Feng might remain suspicious of a masked man breaking into his room, but that suspicion wouldn't stop him from being even more antagonistic toward the military. In fact, for Zuko's purposes, the more suspicion, the better. It would all circle back to Azula, and the more she suspected the more she would fear. Eventually Azula's fears would consume her, and her supporters would stop fighting each other as they began to be targeted by her.

"I knew the Army was more trouble than it's worth," Feng said distractedly. "Keeping a rabid dog can only end with the owner getting bitten."

"Tell that to the Fire Lord. It is the best thing you can possibly do for him."

Feng nodded.

"What about uncovering the conspiracy?" he asked nervously. "Are you confident you can find proof?"

"I don't know, but I think I'm getting closer. But please - don't tell anyone about this; if the traitors realize you know about them they might strike immediately, and I don't have enough information about who is in on the plot."

Zuko could see Feng was hooked. His mouth moved wordlessly, no doubt already rehearsing what he would say to the Fire Lord. If only General Brant had been this easily manipulated. Finally the High Priest's mouth snapped shut, and his narrow face assumed a somewhat comical look of resolve.

"Talk to me when you find proof. Let's meet again in a week."

"Yes, your Excellency."

"And, um… whoever you are?" Feng coughed apologetically. "I can contrive to be alone in the Temple during the evening without raising suspicion. Perhaps next week you might be able to meet me there? I'm an old man, and if at all possible I'd like to sleep without fear of masked intruders."

_If I can contrive it, you won't sleep without fear ever again_, Zuko thought.

But all he said was, "Very good, Your Excellency. Until next time."

He was out the window before Feng could respond.

Zuko made his way carefully back to the Palace, his mind revolving with plots and countermeasures. The stage was set, and in the coming week he would see how everything played out. If Feng was sufficiently spooked, there would be a renewed pressure on military activity. General Brant would react in turn, and Azula would be caught in the middle of a squabble between her supporters. No matter which way she ended up moving, she would alienate at least one side. And that created potential support for Zuko.

Playing both sides was dangerous, but the only thing Zuko was wagering was his life. With nothing except revenge left to live for, it seemed to Zuko well worth the risk. If all went well, the most important institutions in the Fire Nation would be at each other's throats, and Azula would lose her entire support base, if not her life.

Katara would have been proud of him.

_Rest now, my love. I'll take it from here._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **It's been a while since I've written anything except for essays, so I might be a little rusty.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar

**Sokka**

The sun was fast approaching the horizon, gaining a red tinge and casting long shadows on the ground. In the waning light the city of Ba Sing Se loomed large, its walls seeming to glow with reflected light. It was an impressive sight, Sokka had to admit. The largest city in the known world, with a reputation that matched its size. Ba Sing Se the unconquerable, the rock of the Earth Kingdom. But that was long ago, when earthbenders had still stood against the might of the Fire Nation. Now it was Fire Nation soldiers who stood on the famous walls, and enjoyed the security that they provided.

Sokka drove his horse forward with a soft flick of his whip. The docile animal sped up for a few steps, then settled back into its comfortable, ambling gait. It had carried Sokka and his wagon for miles at the same slow pace, and it wasn't about to make haste _now_. The_clack _of its hooves sounded unnaturally loud against the hard-packed road, but that was probably due to the tension heightening Sokka's senses. No matter that he wasn't, strictly speaking, heading into battle; the fact remained that Sokka was riding directly into a city controlled by his enemy, and his only assets were a stupid horse and a stolen wagon full of wool and hay. No wonder his muscles were tensed to spring, and his knuckles were white underneath his leather gloves. If the guards at the gate saw through his story, he'd be in a world of trouble.

"Ho the gate!" Sokka called, cupping his hands around his mouth and bringing the horse to a halt. He craned his neck upwards, noting the number of insectoid helmets that looked down on him.

A voice answered him immediately, crying, "Who goes there?"

"I have a shipment for the barracks," Sokka yelled back. He gestured backwards at the wagon. Its previous owner had needed some convincing to give it up, but then, Sokka considered himself very persuasive. And indeed, the merchant had only needed a few seconds of persuasion to part with his goods, as well as the letter of authenticity that accompanied all official military shipments. It might have helped that Sokka hadn't been particularly subtle when describing all of the unfortunate things that had been known to happen to merchants who got in his way.

There was no answer from the ramparts. Sokka was considering yelling again, when a loud rumbling came from the wall in front of him, and there appeared an opening large enough for at least two wagons. Sokka grimaced, trusting to his hood to keep the expression from being seen, and motioned the horse forward. Earthbenders were still protecting Ba Sing Se, it seemed, only now they were working for the Fire Lord.

When the horse and wagon were secure on the makeshift platform, it began to move slowly up the wall. The rumbling was so loud it hurt Sokka's ears, and made the horse stamp its feet nervously. During the ride to the top of the wall, Sokka reflected for what felt like the thousandth time how one-sided his fight really was. This was just one city, yet it would take an army as large as the Fire Nation's to even think about breaching its walls. With earthbenders coordinating who came in or out, there were no gates to assault, no weak spots to target. If it was stupid to attack this city with an army, it must be stupid to plan, as Sokka planned, to one day bring about the downfall of the entire Fire Nation. _So maybe I'm crazy, _Sokka thought, grinning savagely. _But maybe that's what it takes to do great things._

When the platform reached the top of the wall Sokka didn't even need to spur his horse forward; the animal was so eager to get off of the moving rock that it started forward at a faster pace than any Sokka had been able to coax out of it thus far.

"Easy, you great brute," Sokka called out, pulling hard on the reins. The approaching soldiers already looked edgy, and he didn't want them thinking he was trying to make a break for the streets.

Four Fire Nation soldiers came towards the wagon, one wearing the more elaborate helmet that marked a captain. This one gestured at Sokka to get down from the driver's seat, while one of the lower-ranking men took the horse's reins. Sokka bowed his head respectfully, making sure not to meet the captain's eyes, and rubbed his hands together in a servile fashion. Middle-ranking officers, in Sokka's experience, were generally the ones who enjoyed seeing regular citizens pay them excessive deference. For the really important officers, the behavior of common merchants couldn't matter less. But with this captain, Sokka would have to play the role of a bootlicking merchant. The necessity pissed him off, but after years of infiltrating Fire Nation camps Sokka knew how to play the game.

Though he knew it was childish, Sokka kept himself amused by determining how he could kill the four guards around him. First his boot knife would take the captain in the throat, he decided. Before the body hit the ground he could pull the man's sword out of his scabbard, and take care of the two soldiers standing to either side of their captain. Then he would turn on the last soldier, the one holding his horse, and strangle him with the reins. The image made Sokka feel a little better, until he reflected that there were at least a hundred other soldiers in the immediate vicinity, and that was only counting the section of the wall that he could currently see. And while four might be manageable, taking on a hundred soldiers was perhaps a little too ambitious. But next time, Sokka promised himself, he wouldn't be alone.

The captain pointed at Sokka and scowled. "What's your name, merchant?"

Sokka put a hand on his heart, and bowed lower. "I'm Bruga, your Lordship. I'm supposed to deliver these goods to Quartermaster Venling."

The captain fixed Sokka with a hard stare. "Venling, eh? Where's your letter of authentification?"

Sokka pulled it out of a pocket inside his cloak, and handed it to the captain gently. At the same time, the two soldiers next to the captain walked around to the back of the wagon. One pushed aside the thick, canvas flap, while the other pulled himself up and inside. Sokka let out a squawk of protest, knowing it would be expected.

"Hey, stop that!" Sokka whined. "You'll ruin my goods."

"Peace, merchant," the captain replied, sounding amused. "This is standard procedure. We can live with dirty wool if it means keeping vagrants and thieves from trying to get into the city."

Sokka continued to watch the wagon, wincing theatrically every time he heard a _thump _from inside. "I know, but if the Quartermaster is displeased with the quality it'll mean my head..."

The captain smiled drily. "We wouldn't want that." His voice was perfectly bland, and Sokka had to applaud the man's grasp of sarcasm. "But you don't have to worry; my men will escort you to the Quartermaster's compound, where you can stay for the night. They'll vouch for the quality of your goods, as long as they find everything satisfactory here."

Sokka bowed again, his face the picture of gratitude. "May the Light bless you, your Lordship, for your kindness to this poor merchant."

"Don't mention it. I'm just following procedure." The captain's face had registered disgust when Sokka began the Fire Temple blessing, marking him as one of the many military men who scorned the new religion. Well, Sokka could agree with him there. Worshipping the Fire Lord as a deity was pretty much the last thing he wanted to do. Stabbing him through the chest with a sword, now... that was closer to the mark.

"Hey, Janus, are you done yet?" the captain called out to the man in the wagon. "Let's finish this before we all get gray hair."

The soldier poked his head out through the back opening, and then jumped down next to his partner. "Yes, sir! It's fine, nothing but wool and hay."

The captain nodded impatiently, and gestured at the two soldiers. "Right then, Janus, Ling, you two will escort Bruga to the Quartermaster. Don't take any orders from Venling once you get there, though. I have a feeling he'll want help unloading the wagon, but you're on duty."

The two men saluted sharply, stamping the butts of their spears against the stone. Sokka bowed yet again, and made more effusive thanks to the captain, but inside he was fuming. This escort was wasting his time. His plan had been to abandon the wagon as soon as he was inside the city proper. But now, if he incapacitated the guards they would be missed when they didn't return to the wall. Then there would be a full-scale search out for him, which could make things difficult. So Sokka would need to bide his time, probably until nightfall.

When Sokka was back on his seat in front of the wagon, he followed his escort away from the wall, toward the Great Road. This was the widest street in the city, leading from the main gate all the way up to the Palace. The Great Road was lit day and night by huge torches, and cut through all four districts of the occupied city.

Under Fire Nation rule, the city of Ba Sing Se had been divided into districts, which were actually concentric rings beginning from the palace and moving outward. First District was in the very center of the city, and towered over everything else. It included the Palace and the surrounding streets, home to the Fire Nation's appointed Governor and his retinue, as well as the wealthiest merchants, priests, and firebenders. Second District was the center of commerce, where most of the shopkeepers and laborers lived. It was the largest district by a good margin, home to the majority of the citizens. There the Fire Nation police force maintained a visible presence, keeping the markets and public spaces clear for business.

Third District was the military district, where the soldiers stayed during their rotation in the city. Citizens called it "the Hive," owing partly to the distinctive insect-shaped helmetsof Fire Nation soldiers, and partly to the constant activity. Soldiers were always moving, whether they were carrying orders or drilling formations in the street.

And outside Third District, pushed up haphazardly against the high walls of the city, was the Fourth District. There the poor of Ba Sing Se eked out a miserable existence on the margins of society. All of the city's destitute gathered there, those unable to secure lodging in the Second District, caught between the unyielding wall and the unforgiving Fire Nation soldiers. The Fourth District's cramped quarters and dimly lit streets were unfamiliar to everyone except those unfortunate enough to live there, which made it an excellent place for those who didn't want to be found.

"The Pit," as the Fourth District was known, was home to every beggar, pickpocket, burglar, and petty thief in Ba Sing Se. The Pit had its own rules, and was vicious to outsiders. But it was also perhaps the only place in the city where you could be sure of avoiding Fire Nation soldiers. There was also a thriving underground trade, which dealt in many goods that were scarce or forbidden elsewhere in the occupied city. Among those goods was information, and information was on the top of Sokka's shopping list. Therefore, it was to the Pit that Sokka had to go.

But that would come later. Now, Sokka had to finish unloading his stolen shipment, and get a place to stay for the night.

After twenty minutes of slow plodding, during which Sokka's guards didn't say a word either to him or to each other, the Great Road left the Fourth District and entered military ground. The soldier named Ling led the horse cannily through the busy streets teeming with soldiers, servants, and messengers. They turned off down a side road, which seemed to have storehouses instead of barracks to house soldiers. The road ended abruptly, facing the largest storehouse yet. Through the windows Sokka could see clerks laboring inside, writing or sorting goods on long tables.

They didn't have to wait long before a man came out to meet them. He was dressed in the uniform of a high-ranking Fire Nation bureaucrat, and held himself with an air of superiority. His hair was clipped short in the style of a soldier, but his soft hands and long fingernails said that he'd never held a sword in his life. Sokka loathed him instinctively.

"Is this the shipment we've been waiting for?" the man asked the soldiers, not deigning to look at Sokka.

"I wouldn't know, sir," Ling replied. "Captain just told us to bring it to you. It's wool and hay, if that helps."

"Yes, that's the one," the man said, while nodding his angular face emphatically. "Hurry up, then, let's get this unloaded before the sun sets."

Ling's voice was respectful when he answered, but his gaze didn't waver or admit the least intimidation. "I'm sorry, Quartermaster Venling, but our orders are to head straight back to the Wall."

The Quartermaster looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, but only nodded. "Very well," he said gracelessly. "Off with you."

"Very good, sir." The two soldiers turned on their heels, and went back in the direction of the Great Road.

Quartermaster Venling turned towards Sokka, and his expression showed that he was still very vexed at having lost his workers. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Venling asked crossly. "Get the shipment unloaded into the warehouse. Don't bother asking for help; all of our clerks are too busy as it is. Come meet me when you're done, and we'll discuss payment."

Sokka waited until the Quartermaster was gone, and then let out a loud groan. It had been eight years since the Avatar's death, and Sokka was no longer the boy he once was; however, some things never changed, and this was one of them.

_I hate work!_

oOoOo

Sokka waited until well after dark to leave the compound. Quartermaster Venling, in keeping with his sour disposition, had make Sokka bunk down in the warehouse for the night. He had grudgingly given Sokka a cup of soup and a tattered blanket, and left two guards posted outside of the warehouse, so that Sokka "wouldn't be tempted to steal anything."

The guards made his plan slightly more difficult, but not by much. Once Sokka got out of the Third District and into the Fourth, there was very little chance he would be discovered. It was simply too big an area to find someone who didn't want to be found, especially if that person had a head start. And Sokka was fairly sure his guards were going to be on duty the entire night; he'd heard them grumbling about how it was going to be a long night. It was likely, then, that their bodies wouldn't be discovered until morning. By then, Sokka might not even be in the city.

Sokka got up from his blanket, and began to approach the warehouse door stealthily. His eyes had accustomed to the darkness, and there was a slight glow coming in under the door, probably from torches held by the guards. As he drew closer their voices became audible, first as a wordless murmur and then as two distinct voices.

"You'd better hope that Venling thinks he's punished us enough after this," the first voice said. "It was your idea to sneak in that brandy in the first place, you idiot."

The second voice retorted, "I didn't make you drink it! Relax, it's just one shift. He'll forget about it in a few days."

"You'd better hope he does, because if not I swear I'll-"

But whatever the first guard would have done was to remain a mystery, because at that moment Sokka made his move. He lowered his shoulder and rammed the door at full speed. As it wasn't locked, it swung open violently and hit the first guard mid-sentence, knocking the wind out of his lungs and him off of his feet.

Sokka immediately turned around to face the second guard on his right, who jerked back at the sound of the door hitting his partner. Sokka drew the knife concealed in his right boot and threw it in one fluid motion. There was a flash as the weapon reflected the dim light cast by the guard's torch, and then the knife seemed to sprout in his eye socket. He dropped to the ground limply, without making a sound.

Three quick steps brought Sokka to the fallen guard's side. He wrenched the spear from his grip and whirled around, lunging in the direction of the first guard, who was clumsily trying to raise himself to one knee. The spear caught him in the neck, right in the weak spot where the insectoid helmet joined the armor protecting his shoulders and torso. Sokka drove the spear deeper, and breathed a sigh of relief when the guard died before he could make any noise louder than a muffled choke.

Years of combat experience kept Sokka moving even after the last visible enemy was dead; it was never a good idea to stand still and wait for the enemy that you hadn't seen to kill you. He scanned his surroundings quickly, and was satisfied that he hadn't attracted any attention. The warehouse was at the end of a dead-end street, which was at least twenty yards from turning out into the main camp.

Sokka lost no time in dragging the guards' bodies back into the warehouse, along with their doused torches. There was nothing he could do to hide the bloodstains on the cobblestones, but if anyone was close enough to see them they would also be close enough to see that there weren't any guards watching the warehouse. That meant he needed to move, now. The dice were cast, and Sokka needed to get out of the Third District undetected, as quickly as possible.

It took a little more than five minutes to strip one of the guards of his armor. Sokka put the uniform on over his cloak, feeling the usual sense of revulsion as he pulled on the hated uniform of the Fire Nation military. It was useful, though, he wouldn't argue that. With this uniform and a little luck, he'd be able to walk right out of the Third District.

Before leaving the side street, Sokka went to his wagon, which had been left on the side of the street in front of the warehouse. He had no intention of taking it with him, but it contained something extremely important: Sokka's sword. It was his most valuable possession, forged from a fallen meteorite and capable of cutting through almost any material. He'd lost it once, when he sacrificed the blade and his old boomerang at the Disastrous Battle of Wulong Forest. Of course, he'd lost far more than that that day.

Sokka still cursed himself for leaving Aang to face Ozai alone. Perhaps he wouldn't have been able to do anything against the comet-enhanced Ozai, but guilt was never rational. The hard truth was that Aang had gone toe-to-toe with the Fire Lord, and Aang had lost. Without the Avatar posing a threat, the Fire Lord had decided to keep the Earth Kingdom intact, and the global empire had been born.

A month after Aang's death Sokka had visited the site where he fell, dressing as a Fire Nation soldier to avoid detection. While searching Wulong Forest he'd found his blade, though his boomerang remained lost. At the spot where Aang had fallen, the Fire Lord had erected a memorial stone proclaiming his victory. Before he left, Sokka cut the stone in half with his sword. At the same time he gave his sword a name, replacing its previous nickname of 'space sword.' He called it Sorrow. Destroying the memorial stone had been the first official act of the Resistance, the first of countless battles against overwhelming odds. Now the Resistance was gone; it had crumbled in the aftermath of Katara's death. All Sokka had left was Sorrow, and the knowledge that he would not let his friends' deaths pass unavenged.

The sword was concealed beneath a false board in the bottom of the wagon. After using his knife as a lever, he pried it open and took back his sword. There was no need to hide it any more, since he wasn't planning on going through any more Fire Nation checkpoints. Sokka attached the scabbard to his hip, trusting that enough of the enlisted soldiers wore swords that he wouldn't stick out. Then he left the wagon behind, and headed for the wider streets of the main camp.

Escaping was almost too easy. Sokka kept his head up and walked like he knew where he was going, all the while drawing closer to the Pit. Soldiers raised their hands in greeting as he passed by, and Sokka returned the gesture without speaking. It was a sign of just how safe the Fire Nation felt that no one challenged him or asked where he was going. Without the Resistance still fighting, the soldiers in a place as well-fortified and safe as Ba Sing Se probably didn't bother with protocol. Sokka wasn't about to complain, although if he'd been in charge of Third District he would have done things differently.

As he moved away from the main set of barracks, the torches illuminating the streets grew fewer and farther apart, and the streets themselves became narrower and less well-maintained. Soon Sokka came to one of the guardhouses that separated the Third District from the Fourth. Sokka could have gone around, but the two guards were _both_ snoozing. Sokka let out a soft laugh as he made his way past, out into the dangerous and maze-like streets of the Pit.

The first thing Sokka did when he was out of sight of the guardhouse was ditch his stolen uniform. The last thing he wanted to do was scare off any of the locals by impersonating a soldier. He tossed the armor and helmet into an alley, re-attached his sword, and went off in search of a place where he could get the information he was looking for.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Sokka realized that he wasn't the only person out at night. Every now and then a ghostly shape would flit across the corner of his eye, down an alleyway or behind a partially closed window. Sokka began to feel as if the Pit was aware of him; there was a sense that a malevolent intelligence could sense his presence, and wanted him gone.

Sokka only drew his cape tighter around his shoulders, and hurried on. Sooner or later he would come to a tavern or inn of some kind.

Two blocks later Sokka realized he was being followed. He could make out four sets of footsteps, which stopped and sped up whenever he did. Sokka gave a feral grin, although it was all but invisible in the darkness. _I suppose this is as good a way to get directions as any_, he thought with satisfaction.

Sokka came to an abrupt stop, stifling a chuckle when he heard the footsteps continue for a few awkward steps before halting as well. He put his hand deliberately on his sword hilt, trusting his pursuers' eyes were adjusted enough to the darkness to see, and called out without turning around.

"Is this how they greet newcomers in Fourth District? I'm disappointed in your hospitality."

Rough chuckles answered him, and the footsteps started getting closer. A deep voice replied, "Ain't it proper for guests to bring a gift for the hosts? I don't remember gettin' anything, but I'm sure you just forgot your manners. We'll remind you, won't we boys?"

His companions laughed at the joke, while Sokka turned around to get his first look at the footpads. There were four of them, all indistinct blobs a little darker than their surroundings. Two had long knives in their hands, and the other two held clubs.

"You're right, I must have forgotten," Sokka said calmly. "But I can fix that right now. I've got a decent-sized purse and it's all yours, providing you can tell me the best place around here to find information."

One of the men stepped forward a ways in front of the others. "What kind of information?"

"Oh, any kind," Sokka replied. "I'm not picky."

The footpad chuckled, but Sokka thought it had a nasty edge to it. "Sounds like a mighty good offer, but the way I see it you wouldn't be offerin' up a purse so quickly if you didn't have a few more just like it."

Sokka bent his knees slightly, lowering his center of gravity and preparing to move quickly. "I promise you, I only have the one-"

"We'll see for ourselves, thanks. Get him!" The four men charged forward, brandishing their weapons high.

A quick back handspring brought Sokka out of range long enough to draw his sword, which he then swung in a quick arc to keep his attackers from getting too close. They hesitated, none wanting to be first to get in range of the longer blade. Sokka capitalized on their indecision and charged forward. The two with the knives were the most dangerous, not because Sokka had any doubts about beating them blade-to-blade, but rather because if he gave them any time to think they might realize that they didn't actually need to be holding the knives to hurt him. A thrown knife was much harder to dodge in the dark.

Luckily the knife-wielders were standing next to each other, and had no notion of swordplay. A quick feint low caused them to drop their guard, and with a two motions Sokka left deep gashes along both hands holding knives. There were twin howls of pain, followed by the _clang _as both knives fell to the ground.

Sokka turned just in time to see one of the cudgels coming at his face. He ducked, and felt the _whoosh_ of air as the weapon brushed his hair. The cudgel hit one of the other footpads across the chest, knocking him to the street in a heap. Sokka drove forward before his attacker could swing again. He reversed his sword and slammed the pommel into the man's temple, who dropped like a rock. Now there were only two assailants left, and they were much warier about approaching Sokka.

He took advantage of the breathing room by somersaulting to where the knives had fallen. He tossed his sword to his left and picked up a knife in his right, which he threw at the footpad with the cudgel. It lodged in his left thigh, which buckled and brought him to one knee. His pained shout echoed unnaturally loudly in the night.

Without a word the fourth tried to run, but the second knife caught him in the leg before he could get as far as a step. Sokka walked toward him, taking a moment to rap all three fallen footpads with the pommel of his sword to render them unconscious. Then he advanced on the leader, who was stammering with fear.

"Please, sir, mercy! We wasn't going to kill you, I swear!"

"Relax," Sokka said firmly, and sheathed his sword. "I'm a nice guy, most of the time, so I'll forgive you. That is, as long as you can bring me somewhere where I can find information. A tavern, an inn, I couldn't care less, as long as I find the answers to my questions."

The man's head was nodding up and down feverishly. "Thank you, thank you! Of course, information. There's a tavern around five minutes from here; it's pretty well known by everybody whose trade ain't exactly legal. The owner knows everything there is to know about what's going on in the city."

"Sounds perfect. Say, what's your name?" Sokka grinned good-naturedly at the footpad, who seemed to shrink even further away from him.

"My name? It's… Tamlin, sir."

Sokka extended his hand, which Tamlin took gingerly, eyes wide. Sokka drew him to his feet, causing Tamlin to wince when his weight settled on his injured leg. "Nice to meet you, Tamlin. I'd give you my name, but you might recognize it and we can't have that. Now, let's get to this tavern. I'm sure you could use some bandages on that leg, and I could use a guide who knows the area. Everybody wins this way, right? And I'm sure I don't have to tell you what happens if you try to double-cross me."

"Yes- I mean no, no need! I'll bring you there, just please let me live."

Sokka ripped a swath of fabric from his cloak, and tied it tightly around Tamlin's leg. "That ought to hold you for a while. Don't worry, it's not you that I want to kill. Just help me, and we'll part ways friends. Better make it fast, though, if you want to send anyone to help your friends here. We don't want to leave them unconscious for too long; there might be robbers around here!"

Sokka nudged Tamlin, gesturing for him to lead the way. "Right then, onward!"

oOoOo

The tavern that Tamlin had recommended to Sokka was small, cramped, and dirty. The lights shining through the windows were dim, and the roof was in poor repair. But just looking in through the windows, Sokka saw that the room was close to full, which was odd so late at night. Professional criminals like burglars and mercenaries had to have reliable information about the city, if only to avoid falling afoul of Fire Nation soldiers.

Outside the door to the tavern, Tamlin began to shift nervously. "Can I go now? I brought you here, didn't I?"

"You did," Sokka agreed. "But I think I'd prefer an introduction. You know how criminals are – very little trust, and not inclined to warm up to an unfamiliar face."

He put one hand on Tamlin's shoulder, squeezing perhaps a little harder than necessary, and walked through the front door to the tavern. Almost instantly the buzz of chatter quieted, and heads swiveled to see who the newcomers were.

Sokka gave a friendly wave, and looked around for a likely prospect. His gaze lighted on the bartender behind the counter on the right side of the room, who was drying a mug with a rag that looked far from clean.

"I'm looking for someone," Sokka began, speaking in the direction of the bartender. "My friend Tamlin here told me this was the place to start."

The bartender continued to dry his mug. At last he looked up, weighing Sokka with his eyes. The chatter resumed, although Sokka could feel many pairs of eyes watching him surreptitiously.

"I know most of the faces that come in here," the bartender said at last. "But I don't know you. Who are you? And why," here he broke off and pointed to Tamlin's leg, "did you stab a customer of mine?"

Sokka waved a hand airily. "Aw, it's just a scratch. Tamlin and his buddies were waiting to welcome me to Fourth District, but I'm a little jumpy and I mistook their greeting for an attempted robbery. Just a little misunderstanding, and it's all cleared up now. Right, Tamlin?"

The footpad nodded vigorously.

The bartender's eyes narrowed, and Sokka could tell he was gauging the potential threat that Sokka presented.

"Don't worry," Sokka said, trying to look sincere, "I'm not a Fire Nation soldier or a bounty hunter or anything like that. I don't care what goes on in here; I'm just looking for a friend of mine."

"I don't know what you mean," the bartender said guardedly. "We're all Light-fearing citizens here."

"Never said you weren't. So how about it?"

The bartender gestured to an open stool at the bar. "Have a seat, I'll see what I can do for you."

Sokka turned to Tamlin. He was looking a little pale, whether from blood loss or anticipation Sokka wasn't sure. "Tamlin, it's been fun, but I think I can take it from here."

The footpad breathed a sigh of relief and left immediately, limping away surprisingly quickly. Sokka sat down on the stool. "I'll have a shot of whiskey," he told the bartender. When he gave his money, he slid a small purse across the counter instead of the two coins that it cost. "Keep the change. Now, have you heard of a man named Sang Tzu? Last I heard he was running a florist shop, although that might have changed. My best guess is he's living in Second District."

The bartender palmed the purse with enviable dexterity, then shook his head. "I don't know him, but I know who will. There's an old man who comes in here when he has a few extra coins; he's been begging in Second District since before the Ba Sing Se was under Fire Nation rule. I'll bet you he knows the name of every business owner in Second District."

Sokka threw back his shot and put the glass top down on the counter. "Where can I find him?"

"He roams around, but you can probably find him around midday in the main Market Square in Second District. He's got an eyepatch and he's missing his right hand. Toss him a couple of coins and say Skully sent you; he should open up right away."

"I appreciate your help."

The bartender grunted, and poured Sokka another shot. "It's on the house."

"Thanks," Sokka said, puzzled, "but why?"

"Don't you know it's a national holiday?" the bartender answered. "The Fire Lord decreed it, to celebrate his son offing the Water-Witch and ending the Resistance." The bartender poured himself a shot, and gestured to Sokka to drink. "Long live Prince Zuko!"

From around the room came an echoing cry of "Long live Prince Zuko."

There was a resounding _crash_ as Sokka's shot glass shattered against the far wall. The entire place became as silent as the grave. The bartender looked almost too surprised to be angry.

Sokka spoke in a low voice, which became the only sound in the tavern. "The only day I'll ever drink to the health of that back-stabbing traitor will be his funeral. Sorry about your shot glass; this should cover it." Sokka tossed the bartender another purse, which he caught without a word. The customers in the tavern watched silently as Sokka left without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **In case you found this story when I first posted it, I've recently revised the first chapter, and there's a slight change in direction for Zuko's plot (change made February of 2012). I listed the major changes in my author's notes for the updated chapter. And lastly, before we start, a huge thank-you to everyone who has reviewed! The positive feedback I've received for this story has made me really excited to continue.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar

**Zuko**

The morning after his meetings with General Brant and High Priest Feng, Zuko went to the Royal Courtyard to practice firebending. It was a daily duty for a priest from the Fire Temple to lead the Court firebenders in exercises meant to cleanse the spirit. It was almost like the meditation that Fire Sages and nobles had practiced centuries ago, except that it was more of a social custom than a spiritual exercise. Low-ranking officials attended because it was a chance to mingle with their peers, while those higher up generally practiced firebending forms in the privacy of their own quarters. Zuko had recently decided to attend when he could, because it was an excellent opportunity to see and be seen. The more visibility he had in court, the better his position.

The rising sun warmed the courtyard, and as Zuko slowly moved through the ancient firebending forms he was able to relax and shrug off the tiredness that accompanied a late night of sneaking around. But Zuko quickly stopped enjoying the simple pleasure of firebending when he saw a familiar face entering the courtyard from the main entrance to the Palace. It was Colonel Lao, leading a trio of his subordinates. A warning light flashed in Zuko's head, and though he mechanically continued to follow the Priest's directions, his attention was riveted on the newcomer.

Lao was the youngest soldier ever to reach the rank of Colonel; he had earned his reputation first as a tremendously talented warrior during the colonization of the Earth Kingdom after the fall of the Avatar, and then as a tenacious and persistent officer while fighting the Resistance. More than once, Zuko had heard from Katara how the tide of a battle had turned once Lao joined the fray. Lao had never come face-to-face with Katara, however, a fact that reinforced Zuko's belief that Lao was smarter than he appeared.

The reason the young Colonel interested Zuko now was that he was well known to be a supporter of Azula. In fact, there were rumors around Court that the two might be lovers; a rumor that Zuko could believe, which made him pity the man. Azula was not one to let people close to her, and no matter what Lao believed he was nothing to Zuko's sister but a useful tool.

In fact, Zuko guessed that the only reason Lao was here was because Azula had sent him, for some purpose of her own. Lao was very proud of his own high status, and never missed a chance to flaunt it. One example was his hair, which he grew long in the style of the nobles at court, instead of in the military crew-cut that most soldiers and officers wore. Another was exercising his privilege of not attending the morning routine.

Sure enough, Lao and his three cronies walked straight for the open space next to Zuko. Zuko tensed, though he thought it doubtful that Azula would be so open about an assassination attempt. More than likely this was some other ploy; to find out what exactly Lao was playing at, Zuko would just have to wait patiently. Nevertheless, he kept one eye on the Colonel as he went through the firebending forms, following the motions of the priest.

Before too long the priest, who was more than slightly overweight, was panting and sweating profusely. He ended the final form and stood straight, then bowed to the officials gathered in the courtyard. "May the Sun keep you strong, and may your fire burn brightly."

Zuko intoned the ritual response along with everyone assembled there. "All hail Ozai!" As always happened when he was reminded of his father's self-proclaimed godhood, Zuko had to fight to hold back a grimace. But his face remained still as stone, helped by the therapeutic mental exercise of imagining his father burning at the stake, consumed by the roaring flames.

_The day will come, Father, when I find out if a God can burn._

It was in the few seconds after the priest finished the ritual that Colonel Lao decided to act. While most of the officials were shuffling off in the direction of the Palace entrance, he turned towards Zuko and spoke, his voice echoing loudly off of the walls.

"Prince Zuko! I would have words with you."

Now that the danger, whatever it might prove to be, was out in the open, Zuko became perfectly calm. It was the calm before a battle, when he knew with perfect clarity that there were only two outcomes: success or failure.

"Have as many as you like," Zuko replied dryly. "I am at your service. But would you prefer to continue this conversation in a more private location?"

Already the officials had paused in their movement away from the courtyard, and were avidly watching the scene develop. Zuko guessed that whatever Lao was up to, he wanted an audience, and the spellbound officials served admirably.

Lao completely ignored Zuko's question, confirming that a private discussion was not what he wanted at all. "It is a matter of honor. I call you to account for slander against myself, and for dishonorable words ill befitting your station. How do you answer, Prince Zuko?"

"I'll answer as soon as I understand what you're talking about. When did I ever slander you? Upon my honor, I remember no such thing."

Lao's face reddened slightly. It was as clear as day that the Colonel had no real grievance. This must have been manufactured by Azula. If Zuko died in an Agni Kai, all her problems would go away. And if he won, she wouldn't lose anything other than a follower she could probably replace in an instant.

After regaining command of his expression, Lao continued unperturbed. "At a meeting of the Royal Council, did you not question my fitness for my post, and cast aspersions on my character?"

Zuko almost laughed. He remembered what Lao was referring to, though it had happened almost a month before. The Royal Council was a small group of the highest-ranking members of the Fire Nation Court. Zuko and Azula were both members, as well as General Brant, Admiral Kai, High Priest Feng, the Commander of the Imperial Guard, and the Master of Coin. They dealt with issues pertaining to the safety and governance of the realm, often receiving tasks directly from the Fire Lord.

In the meeting to which Lao was referring, Zuko had been protesting the use of excessive violence against citizens in occupied cities. Lao had recently returned from a command in Ba Sing Se, where he had punished crime with the harshest possible penalties. The specific phrase Lao was referring to, if Zuko remembered correctly, went something like this: "it's ham-handed brutes like Lao who create civil unrest in the first place. He's better suited for digging privies than maintaining order in a city."

Lao hadn't been the only officer that Zuko had critiqued, and it hadn't even been a calculated insult, just an honest (if strongly-worded) evaluation of the man's overly aggressive approach to peacekeeping. Normally such a comment would pass unnoticed when made by a Prince, but Azula must have promised Lao something that outweighed the risk of challenging someone as important as Prince Zuko. Offhand, Zuko guessed that Azula had hinted at marriage. An ambitious man like Colonel Lao would do just about anything for the chance to become the consort of the heir to the Fire Nation.

Zuko felt all of the eyes on the courtyard watching him, waiting for his response. He could apologize, but Lao would doubtless call for an Agni Kai anyway. Well, if Lao wanted a show, Zuko would give him one.

"Now that you mention it, Colonel, I do remember. But I don't consider what I said to be at all slanderous. In fact, I still maintain that you could dig an excellent privy, one that any soldier would be honored to piss in."

Lao's face grew even redder, as he changed from embarrassment to real anger. "I won't swallow my pride even for a Prince. Prince Zuko, I challenge you to an Agni Kai!"

Zuko walked forward deliberately, until his face was only inches from the Colonel's. He tilted his head and spoke softly, to keep the audience from hearing what he was going to say. "I'll give you one chance to back out with your dignity intact, Lao. I don't care what my sister promised you, it's not worth dying for."

Lao's lip curled upwards in a confident sneer. Zuko shrugged.

_I tried, but you can't fix stupid._

"I accept," he called out, his voice the only sound in the courtyard. "We will meet tonight at sundown, in the Agni Kai chamber."

Lao bowed, turned on his heel, and marched out of the courtyard. His subordinates were close behind. The officials who had witnessed turned almost as one, and scurried away as if afraid to be seen by the Prince. Momentarily alone in the courtyard, Zuko paused to reflect.

This must be Azula's response to his declaration of war during his ceremony. Just like her, it was flashy and wasteful. Anyone with any knowledge of Court whatsoever would know who was actually behind Lao's challenge. And even though Zuko had been careful not to display his true fighting ability before the Court, he was confident that Azula suspected how much stronger he had grown over the years. She was sending Colonel Lao on a suicide mission, for no other reason than to send Zuko a message. Even if Lao managed to win, a prospect that Zuko only entertained because he'd learned long ago that anything could happen in battle, Azula would probably get rid of the Colonel rather than repay him for his service. Zuko could almost feel sorry for the poor fool.

Then again, perhaps Azula's only purpose was trying to figure out just how much stronger Zuko had become. It made sense in a twisted way, because after the Agni Kai Azula would have a much better sense of how Zuko fought.

So the challenge would be to win in a way that was as impressive and showy as possible, without using any of the techniques that he normally kept in reserve.

Once he felt satisfied that he'd examined Azula's motives from every angle he could think of, Zuko found himself looking forward to the Agni Kai at sundown. It had been a long time since he'd had a satisfying fight.

oOoOo

While the upcoming duel was foremost in Zuko's mind, it didn't take precedence over the business of the day. And first on that list was a meeting of the Royal Council. In contrast to his usual boredom at the tedious bureaucratic debate that Council discussions generally degraded into, today Zuko was actually anticipating the meeting with a small degree of pleasure. With any luck, some of the seeds he'd planted the day before might begin to bear fruit.

Zuko prepared for the meeting in his chambers, patiently allowing Roshi to help him don his robes of office. They were less ornate than the ceremonial robes he'd worn for the celebration the day before, but they still impeded easy movement. It was a good thing that the fighting that would happen in the Council chamber was entirely of the verbal sort.

When Zuko was dressed, he dismissed Roshi with a wave of his hand. The silent servant left immediately, leaving Zuko alone in his dressing room. There were still almost twenty minutes until the meeting, so Zuko amused himself by bending small wisps of fire. There was a trick to it, where if you dismissed the fire in a certain way you could create smoke rings. It was a child's game, one that Zuko had often played to settle his nerves when carrying out a covert operation for the Resistance. Now his nerves were beyond unsettling, and the game was just a way to past the time.

He left his chambers with enough time to get to the meeting early, and walked through the halls with confidence. When Zuko reached the large door that opened into the Royal Council chamber, he saw that he wasn't the first to arrive. Azula was just about to open the door, but she paused before entering in order to send Zuko a nasty smile.

"I heard about Colonel Lao's challenge, brother dear," she said with mock concern. "If you're worried, you can always back out. I'm sure Father will understand; you do have bad memories associated with the Agni Kai room, after all."

Zuko only grinned at the taunt about his scar. He'd long ago ceased to be self-conscious or angry about it. There were many more reasons to hate the Fire Lord than because of a scar he'd been given as a child.

"Rumors travel fast, don't they? I wouldn't advise you to watch; I'm sure as duels go it will be unremarkable."

"Oh," Azula assured him, baring her teeth, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

She held the door for him with elaborate courtesy, but as he entered the chamber Zuko could almost feel her eyes boring through his back. The Royal Council chamber was small by Palace standards, but richly furnished. There was a single rectangular table that dominated the room, large enough to seat twenty people. Paintings by Fire Nation artists covered the walls, and lush curtains hung over the windows. Food and wine was already set out, for the Council members to enjoy as they set about the difficult business of running an empire.

Zuko sat at his usual place, at Azula's left hand. It was within his rights as a member of the Royal family to sit at her right, but he piously ceded that honor to High Priest Feng. Azula, of course, sat at the head of the table.

The rest of the Council members came trickling in one by one. First to arrive was General Brant, who nodded gravely at both Prince and Princess before taking a seat farther down the table. Admiral Kai arrived at the same time as his friend and former colleague Doran, who was Commander of the Imperial Guard. Both were naval men originally, though Doran had chosen a different route in his middle age.

Lian Po arrived precisely at noon, his punctuality very much in keeping with his dry, precise personality. He was a small man from a minor noble family, but his skill at governing allowed him to rise far higher than his ancestors in the Fire Nation court. He was the Master of Coin, entrusted with overseeing the wealth of the Fire Nation. Zuko hated him on principle, though he had to admit that Lian Po was not in the least corrupt. Nobody could have seemed less imposing, but with his army of bureaucrats and coin-counters, together with the unprecedented new influx of wealth from the colonized nations, Lian Po was one of the most powerful men in the Fire Nation.

Finally, five minutes after noon, High Priest Feng arrived. He was by far the oldest person in the room, and today he looked his age. His robes were mussed, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Zuko reflected with amusement that being awoken suddenly by a masked visitor with news of a conspiracy would be enough to ruin anyone's sleep. Feng muttered quick apologies and sat down in his place beside Azula.

Once they were all seated, the meeting began.

"This week's meeting of the Royal Council is now in session," Azula announced, somewhat theatrically in Zuko's opinion. "Lian Po, how fares our Empire?"

The little man rubbed his hands together, and then adjusted his glasses with his forefinger. He gave a dry cough, and responded. "Ahem, well, the Empire is healthy. Very healthy. Tax revenue fills our coffers steadily, and we are making vast improvements. Construction is already underway on three new factories in what was previously Earth Kingdom territory; the locations are close to mines in the area, so we will waste no time in turning raw materials into finished products. Also, the Master of Engineers tells me that plans are being drawn up for a system of roads spanning the entire Empire. It would become a thriving network for overland trade, centered on the Fire Islands."

"That is good to hear," Azula declared. "Lian Po, you have done well. In the weeks to come I expect to hear more about this project."

"Certainly, Your Highness."

Azula turned to General Brant and Admiral Kai, who were waiting patiently with expressions of polite interest. "And what is the state of our military?"

General Brant gestured respectfully for Admiral Kai to begin. The battle-hardened Admiral launched into his report, warming up to his subject visibly as he went on.

"The shipyards are hard at work, creating new vessels for trade. Our warships are currently overworked and doubling as cargo carriers for shipments between territories, so we're spread fairly thin throughout the Empire. There have been problems with former fishing villages experimenting with piracy, though such instances have been few and far between."

Azula snorted derisively, dismissing the fishing villages as she would a troublesome servant. "I am not interested in the actions of a few peasants. The sight of our warships sends them scurrying, and with more vessels patrolling the seas such opportunists will realize the risk of breaking the law is too high. General Brant, what of the Army?"

The gruff General inclined his head respectfully. "I am pleased to report that recruitment is higher than it has ever been, and still rising. The bulk of it is due to the large number of men and women from the occupied territories who are eager to enlist."

As soon as the conversation turned to the military, Zuko had begun watching High Priest Feng out of the corner of his eye. At the news that the military was growing larger, the old man's face gained a slight, greenish tinge. Zuko had to stifle a laugh.

"A moment, if you please, Your Highness," Feng called out. "I would like to ask why such recruiting is necessary. Our Empire is at peace. There are better uses for the realm's gold than maintaining such a massive military presence. We spend monstrous amounts buying weapons and feeding tens of thousands of hungry mouths, and what do we get in return? Military parades, and a show of force that is no longer necessary."

Admiral Kai shifted in his seat, his face growing redder as he listened to Feng. At last, he couldn't restrain himself any more. "You make a lot of noise about how much the Army and the Navy cost, yet I don't see you complaining about the gold that goes into Temple coffers, Feng! What have you and your Priests done with the tithe, besides growing fat and lazy at the Empire's expense?"

Feng gave an outraged squawk. "You dare accuse us of worldly greed?"

Zuko really had trouble keeping a straight face at that point. The corruption among high-ranking Temple priests was infamous, but it wasn't often that anyone accused a Priest as powerful as High Priest Feng of vice. Admiral Kai, however, still retained much of the coarse, stubborn sailor he'd been before his many promotions, and not even the High Priest could keep him from speaking his mind.

"All I'm saying is your precious Temple is quite as costly to maintain as the military, and we at least work for our pay."

Zuko decided to stir the pot a bit. "General Brant," he cut in, "what is your opinion of the matter? His Eminence and Admiral Kai have made themselves clear, but we have yet to hear where you stand."

Brant met Zuko's amused eyes with a level gaze. _He knows_, thought Zuko with sudden clarity. _He knows what I'm up to._

"You have a point, Your Eminence," Brant began, addressing himself to the High Priest. "Keeping an Army that serves no purpose is a waste. But our Army is not useless. On the contrary, Your Eminence, the military is the greatest peace-keeping weapon we possess. By offering the sons and daughters of defeated nations the opportunity to rise within the military, we give them hope for the future. They forget about the fact that they were recently conquered, and give their all for us in order to create a brighter future for their families. And in doing so, they become a part of the Fire Nation, heart and soul. Maintaining a disciplined military is the best thing we can do to make sure that our young Empire flourishes, and that the wounds of the past are forgotten."

"But that is the Temple's job," Feng insisted, sounding slightly petulant. "The schools we have established in the territories educate the next generation about their role in the Fire Nation. Until they learn to accept the true faith, according to the guidance of our Temple's teaching, they will not give up their anger. Training young people how to fight and kill, especially when they have little love for our Empire, is like storing combustion powder next to an open flame."

Indeed, the High Priest looked petrified just thinking about the possibilities.

To Zuko's considerable surprise, Azula stepped in to defuse the tension. "Both the Fire Temple and the military are the pillars on which our nation is founded. I know that everyone in this room has the best interests of the Fire Nation at heart, and that priests can work beside warriors to strengthen our Empire."

Zuko was impressed at the ease with which Azula calmed the irate Feng. She was more than a paranoid murderer, that was certain. Every time Zuko felt himself beginning to believe that outmaneuvering Azula would be child's play, he witnessed examples of her keen political sense. She moved away from the controversial topic of the military to safer matters, by asking Lian Po to go into more detail on the tax revenues from former Earth Kingdom cities.

From there the meeting dragged on much like any other, but Zuko still congratulated himself on at least a small accomplishment. Already Feng was reacting to the perceived threat posed by the military, and that tension would only increase. Zuko hoped to increase that tension by failing to meet with Feng in the Temple the next week. The High Priest would be expecting the masked intruder to have news of the conspiracy. When the masked man failed to show up at the appointed time, Feng would assume that the conspiracy had captured him. That would drastically increase the priest's sense of urgency and immediate danger, leading to him to butt heads again and again with Admiral Kai.

When the ornate clock mounted on the far wall showed that it was two in the afternoon, Azula called the meeting to a halt.

"Thank you all for your loyal service to our Empire. Our next meeting is in a week's time, but we shall see each other much sooner than that. My esteemed brother, Prince Zuko, has an Agni Kai set for tonight with Colonel Lao. It promises to be a magnificent duel."

There was a series of surprised exclamations, as apparently most of the Council members had not heard about the disturbance that morning in the courtyard. Zuko raised his hands for silence.

"It's nothing serious," he assured his fellow Council members. "Colonel Lao decided that his honor required that he challenge me. Our Agni Kai will settle the matter. Indeed, attending is probably not worth your time."

"Are you kidding?" Admiral Kai laughed, "I haven't witnessed an official Agni Kai since I was at sea! Fight well, Your Highness, because we'll all be watching!"

"I plan to."

With that the conversation was clearly at an end, and each Council member gathered up his or her personal effects and prepared to leave. As Zuko left the room, he paused a second next to General Brant, and leaned in close as if telling him a secret. As he did, he was acutely conscious of Azula's eyes watching him.

"General," Zuko said quietly, "I just wanted to ask you to reconsider the matter we discussed last night."

In response, the General stood up and pushed in his chair. "I wish you luck tonight, Prince Zuko." He spoke loudly, in a voice meant to be heard by the entire room. "I look forward to seeing the fight, and trust it will be… illuminating. Gentlemen. Your Highness." He bowed in the direction of his colleagues, and then at Azula, and left the room.

Before following the General out the door, Zuko sent his sister a sardonic smile. "Until tonight, dear sister."

The smile she sent back was cold enough to extinguish a forest fire. "Until tonight."

oOoOo

When the sun had all but disappeared, and the horizon was lit only by a red glow, Zuko prepared to leave for the Agni Kai. He had dismissed Roshi, telling the servant that he preferred to dress himself before a duel. There wasn't much to do; he would be fighting in comfortable, loose-fitting pants, and shoes that gripped the floor well. Shirts were not permitted in formal Agni Kai, so he wore a casual over-robe over his bare torso that he would cast aside before the fight began.

Zuko took a few minutes to go through the basic firebending forms, trying to center himself. He was still trying to decide how he would approach the fight – he wanted to make a statement, but there were many different ways to go about it, each of which had potential advantages and disadvantages. He left for the Royal Agni Kai chamber, all the time weighing his options. Should he try to end the fight as quickly as possible? Or should he try to make it last, and conceal his true strength? Zuko was torn.

Zuko was the last person to arrive at the site of the Agni Kai, which was just how he wanted it. It was the largest possible audience. The chamber itself was one of the largest rooms in the Palace, yet almost completely bare of furnishings. There was a tiled floor, red walls, and a ceiling that arched far overhead. On a raised dais was a mounted throne for the Fire Lord, with enough space around it for almost sixty of the most powerful and influential members of the Court. Of them all, only Azula was also sitting, in a gigantic, gilt oak chair that had probably required at least a dozen servants to move. The dais was surrounded by an entire cohort of the Imperial Guard in full armor; fifty men ready to unleash hell on anyone who might try to target the Imperial family while their attention was focused on the duel.

Colonel Lao was waiting at the center of the tiled floor, already bare-chested, his robe thrown carelessly off to the side. He looked brashly confident, and almost giddy with the thought of glory. More than once, Zuko noticed Lao glance in Azula's direction and then away.

_Fool_, Zuko thought, _if you believe my sister has anything for you except a kiss and a dagger in the back, you're sadly mistaken._

Zuko tossed his own over-robe on the floor, close to the entrance of the chamber, and walked out to meet Lao. The Colonel stood several inches taller than him and was considerably more muscular, but Zuko wasn't worried. Size was only one factor in a duel, and had almost nothing to do with strength in firebending. Zuko turned his back deliberately on Lao, and bowed in the direction of Fire Lord Ozai. Zuko felt the familiar rush of hatred as he looked upon the face of the person he hated most in the world.

Ozai stood up and raised his hands, bringing the chattering crowd around the throne to silence. "We are here," he announced, his voice echoing loudly in the chamber, "to witness one of our nation's most ancient and honorable traditions. Tonight our own son, Prince Zuko, defends his honor against Colonel Lao. Let your flames burn brightly!"

The members of Court echoed his words, which became incomprehensible to Zuko's ears. He turned to watch Lao, who had set himself in a ready position. And then, Zuko had an idea. It was risky, and probably stupid, but Zuko found that he didn't care. It had style, and would embarrass Azula mightily should he succeed.

"I've lived on the edge of a battlefield for half of my life," Zuko called out to Lao. "But I don't pretend that I'm qualified for high military rank. Those stripes on your uniform are a joke, _Colonel_. You're a child in a costume. And I don't fight children with fire."

For a second Colonel Lao gaped like a fish. Then he recovered himself, and laughed scornfully. "You won't fight? If you were scared, you could have sent a message and saved us all the trouble of showing up tonight."

"Oh, I'll fight you," Zuko replied. "But firebending is a sacred art. To use it against trash like you would disgrace me. I'll thrash you with my bare hands." And so saying, Zuko took a fighting stance and beckoned Lao forward. As the insult registered, the veins in Lao's neck bulged and his face turned an outraged crimson. The court laughed in appreciation of Zuko's show of arrogance.

Aside from playing to the crowd, Zuko's strategy of avoiding firebending had a very practical purpose. This way, Azula would not have any sense of how Zuko fought when he was fighting in earnest. Also, by essentially crippling himself in this battle, Zuko was sending Azula a message in front of the whole court that said, "You can do better than that." It was probably common knowledge that this duel had been instigated by Azula, so it was important that everyone see Zuko embarrass his sister's champion. It would add to his reputation, because if he could defeat a warrior like Colonel Lao without resorting to firebending, people would begin to ask what else he could do. Of course, it all turned on the crucial phrase '_if _he could defeat Colonel Lao.' Zuko was confident he could take Lao in a straight fight, but with this handicap it would be a close thing.

Lao was now livid, and ignited twin balls of fire in his outstretched palms. "I'll roast you to a crisp!"

He extended his arms, palms out, and shot two columns of fire at Zuko's torso. Zuko threw himself to the side, ducking into a side somersault to cushion the fall. But Lao had been expecting that and charged forward, closing the distance to Zuko just as he got to his feet.

Zuko ducked a split second before a vicious haymaker almost took his head off, and he felt the heat as Lao sent a secondary burst of fire from his fist. Lao followed with a roundhouse kick, which Zuko dodged by launching himself into a back handspring. The extra distance was crucial, as Lao's kick also sent a wave of fire shooting forward yards away from his body.

"You're just going to run away?" Lao laughed. "No wonder you weren't suited to become heir. Face me like a warrior of the Fire Nation!"

"First rule of warfare," Zuko taunted as he began circling Lao. "Never let your enemy dictate the terms of the engagement."

He darted in close, and began harassing Lao with quick strikes aimed at his legs and arms. For a while he was able to keep Lao on the defensive, but it couldn't last. When Lao saw an opening he lashed out, and Zuko was forced to leap away again before the flames burned him.

The fight went on in the same way. Zuko tried to keep Lao from bending, while attempting to inflict an injury that would restrict his mobility. Lao defended against Zuko's attacks, showing surprising dexterity and patience from such a hotheaded man, and looked for the opportunity to end the duel with a powerful fire attack. Zuko began to feel as if he was a matador, running a giant bull around the ring. And he was under no illusions about what would happen if the bull that was Colonel Lao managed to hit him.

During one flurry of back-and-forth punches and kicks, Zuko was overcome by a memory of a meeting years ago, with Katara. She'd been telling him about the state of the Resistance, and how her brother Sokka was turning into the leader they'd always believed he could be.

"He's developing a style of martial arts tailored to fighting firebenders," Katara had boasted proudly. "It's next to impossible, but Sokka thinks that with the right movements an ordinary person could learn how to hold their own against the Empire's benders."

Zuko wished he had had the opportunity to learn that martial arts style, but he'd never had contact with Sokka so there hadn't been an opportunity to learn. He wondered where Sokka was now. It was probably safe to assume that he was dead, or hiding while trying to forget the past, like most everyone else who had fought for the Resistance.

The bout of nostalgia almost cost him his life, when Lao changed from a roundhouse kick to a jab that almost caught Zuko in the chest. _I need to end this,_ Zuko realized. He was growing tired faster than Lao, because he had to move much more than Lao in order to avoid the reach of his fire.

Zuko started moving a little slower, and missing Lao's powerful strikes by even narrower margins. His breath came a little raggedly, and his punches grew weaker and weaker. Lao began growing more confident, and risked leaving himself open in order to land the finishing blow.

Then, finally, the opportunity that Zuko was waiting for presented itself. Lao began a vicious roundhouse kick, coupled with a burst of fire that would explode outward once he lashed out. Instead of jumping back, as Zuko had always reacted to this technique before, he dove forward in a low somersault, underneath Lao's spinning kick. Zuko came to his feet and grabbed Lao's leg with his left hand, pushing the Colonel off-balance. He raised his right arm, and brought his elbow straight down into the Colonel's knee.

Zuko wasn't sure which was louder; the Colonel's anguished scream, or the _crack_ of bones breaking in his leg. When Zuko stepped back, Lao collapsed in a heap on the tiled floor.

Slowly, Zuko approached his fallen opponent. He stood at a safe distance for a second, until he determined that Lao was truly incapable of any kind of attack. Then he advanced, until he was standing directly in front of the Colonel.

"An Agni Kai isn't over until someone is burned," Zuko announced, as the entire Court watched breathlessly from behind him. "So this duel is not yet finished." Zuko ignited his hand, so that a low-intensity flame flickered between his fingers. He reached down, and gently patted the Colonel's cheek, as he would a child. In the deathly silence of the chamber, the sizzling sound the flames produced was clearly audible. Zuko's nose registered the faint, acrid stench of burning flesh. When Zuko pulled away, Lao's cheek bore a raw burn in the shape of a hand. Zuko nodded once, satisfied. "Now it is finished."

From the Court came a loud burst of applause. Zuko turned towards them and smiled, acknowledging their fickle praise. He bowed to his father, and awaited the God-King's verdict.

Ozai stood from his throne, his long, purple robe brushing the floor. Immediately, Zuko went to one knee, as did everyone present.

"What a duel," the Emperor declared, his gruff voice resounding. "Well fought, my son. Truly, you have come a long way since I taught you a lesson here, all those years ago."

_Oh, you have no idea._

"Doubtless," Ozai continued, "everyone who hears of what happened tonight will think twice about challenging you."

Zuko murmured polite thanks, and Ozai turned to leave, summoning the Imperial Guard with a gesture. Before he stood back up, Zuko raised his eyes and met his sister's gaze. Azula's expression could only be described as murderous.

Slowly, deliberately, Zuko winked at her.

_Your move, sister._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Here's Sokka's next chapter. Soon the pace will pick up a little, and the plot lines will start to converge. In case you were wondering, this story is definitely NOT slash. I am planning to introduce love interests for both Zuko and Sokka, and you'll recognize both of them. However, just like with Zuko and Sokka, they've grown and changed a lot since the Avatar died. And since Zuko, at least, is still very much in love with Katara's memory, the process will be slow and filled with drama and heartache. But then, the course of true love never did run smooth :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender

**Sokka**

The Great Market of Ba Sing Se was famous throughout the known world, and as Sokka wandered through the wide, bustling streets he understood why. Gigantic, open-air tents stood at intervals throughout the market, watched over by merchants who tried by any means possible to attract the attention of the bustling crowd. Jewelry set with precious gems from Earth Kingdom mines, spices from the remotest islands in the Empire, exotic materials from every corner of the realm - here the wealth of nations was jumbled together in a dizzying array of shapes and sizes, and fortunes changed hands in the blink of an eye.

A younger Sokka would have joined the throng of eager customers in a heartbeat. The booths advertising foreign weapons, for instance, would have been his first destination. Then perhaps a quick detour to one of the many jewelry stores, followed by a sampling of the uncountable variety of treats sold by street-side vendors. It was exactly the kind of place that he, Katara, Aang and Toph would have spent many happy hours exploring, years ago when they were all together. But they weren't with him any more, and Sokka knew more than he used to about places like this.

Everything around him, all of the bright, glittering objects in their display cases, they were all a product of Fire Nation brutality. That was how colonization worked. The farmers, the miners, all of them sent their raw materials, paid for in sweat and blood, back to the Fire Nation, to be processed in the giant factories that belched ugly smoke into the air above. Then the finished products were shipped right back to the colonies, to markets just like this one, where the well-to-do citizens bought them for ridiculously high prices. All of the wealth went straight back to the center of the system, like a queen bee hoarding all of the honey from her workers.

Sokka grimaced when he saw a booth belonging to a clockmaker, who was yelling at the top of his lungs about the usefulness of the new-fangled time-keeping devices. The amount it cost to buy one could feed a family for a month. But the workers who had created that clock wouldn't see a fraction of the money - instead, the merchant would go back to the Fire Nation a rich man, and the pompous asses who bought the clocks would display them on mahogany shelves or mantelpieces, as proof of their high status. What Sokka would have given to have the soldiers of the Resistance with him now, where they could have struck a true blow for justice. A few well-placed explosions would deal a sizeable blow to the Fire Nation economy, and teach a lesson to those who made their livelihood exploiting the work of honest citizens.

But wishful thinking would get him nowhere. Reviving the Resistance would happen one step at a time, and finding the beggar he'd heard about was step one. So while hundreds of people of all descriptions surged and milled around him in the marketplace, Sokka kept his eyes peeled in the hope of finding a beggar that matched the innkeeper's description.

It was a harder task than he'd anticipated. Beggars were everywhere, whether they were old, decrepit men and women or the emaciated children clad in rags who scampered through the crowd, tugging on coats and holding out pewter mugs with beseeching eyes. Sokka tossed a few coins into the crowd, but couldn't give as many as he would have liked. He might have to buy information, or bribe more guards on his way out of the city. And if too many of the beggars saw he was being generous with his money, they would swarm him in the hopes of getting more. It broke Sokka's heart to see so many people destitute and poor, but as he was he couldn't help them. The problem was too large to be fixed with a few coins.

When the beggar first came into view, Sokka almost didn't see him. He was sitting in the lotus position on the street next to a fruit vendor, a bowl holding a few coins set out beside him. But there - the beggar was missing his right hand, and he wore an eyepatch over his left eye. Sokka began moving towards him, shouldering roughly through the crowd thronging the street.

For a moment, Sokka thought the beggar must be sleeping, or in a trance, so oblivious he seemed to the outside world. But right as Sokka came to a stop in front of him, the beggar opened his right eye, and gave Sokka an appraising glance.

"Alms for the poor?" he asked hopefully.

In answer, Sokka took out a gold coin from his purse, and tossed it casually into the bowl. The yellow glint from Sokka's coin contrasted sharply with the dull copper color of its fellows. The beggar's eyebrow raised in surprise.

"May the Fire Lord smile on you today," he said, in a voice that held a hint of suspicion, "for your kindness to this poor old man."

"I'm afraid it's not kindness that brings me here," Sokka responded, and bowed respectfully. "I come on a different mission altogether. The innkeeper Skully sent me to you."

The beggar shook his head in exasperation. "Did he, now? I suppose you're here about my tab. Well, I'll tell you the same thing I told Skully - I don't have the money. What are you going to do; take it out of my flesh?"

Sokka waved his hands in a startled negative. "No, no, you've got the wrong idea. I'm not a debt collector. I'm looking for an old friend, and Skully told me you know everyone in Second District."

The beggar breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's a fine thing. I was worried Skully's charity had finally run out. So he sent you to me, did he? He did right - I reckon I know everybody who's anybody in this part of town. Been living here for more than fifty years, after all."

Sokka tossed another coin into the beggar's bowl, where it clinked brightly. "I can't thank you enough. I'm looking for a man named Sang Tzu. He's a florist, or at least he used to be."

For a second, Sokka could have sworn he saw the beggar's eye narrow, making the old man look slyer than a fox. But before he could tell for sure the man blinked, and his face resumed its placid expression.

"I'm sorry to tell you the bad news, but Sang Tzu died a few years ago."

Sokka's spirit sank. Sang Tzu had been his best link to the Order of the White Lotus. Back when Iroh was alive, he'd been the Grand Master of the Order. But after his death, the Order had gone into hiding. Sang Tzu had delivered that message to Katara, who had cursed the Order bitterly. But they maintained that their duty was to stay alive, collecting information and keeping knowledge alive for the future.

The Resistance had fought without any overt aid from the Order - they had gone their separate ways. Even Sokka, who had been accepted into the Order of the White Lotus by his old master of the sword, had been forced to choose between staying in the Order and fighting against the Fire Lord. The choice had been an easy one, and he'd left the Order without a backwards look.

But now, without any allies or benders on his side, Sokka could think of only one hope. If he could reconnect with the Order of the White Lotus, perhaps he could convince them that the Resistance needed to be revived. With powerful benders fighting for him, citizens who had been too afraid to fight against the Fire Nation would once again take arms against their tyrannical overlords.

All that, of course, had relied on being able to find the Order. And so far, they had all disappeared like ghosts into the spirit world. Even Sokka's old master, Piandao, was gone. His large manor was all bricked up, and he and his servant, Fat, were nowhere to be found. So Sokka had decided to follow up on the last known location of Sang Tzu, the Order member whose whereabouts he'd heard of most recently. That was how he'd ended up in Ba Sing Se.

But apparently, all his trouble was for nothing. Sokka grimaced, though the heavy hood of his cloak hid the expression, and tossed a third and final coin into the begging bowl. "Thank you for your time."

"Was he a friend of yours?" the beggar asked carefully.

"I'd hoped that he would be," Sokka answered cryptically. He turned to go, but the beggar's voice rose and stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold a second! You gave me far more than the information required. So let me give you something in return."

Sokka was about to protest, when the beggar reached into the folds of his tattered, black cloak and pulled out something small and white. He flicked it at Sokka with surprising speed, forcing Sokka to snatch it out of the air before it bonked him on the nose.

Sokka looked down at the object in his hand, and realized with growing wonder that it was a Pai Sho tile. It was the White Lotus piece. He looked up at the beggar, who was watching him knowingly.

"Do you play?" the beggar asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"A long time ago," Sokka said. "But I'm hoping to relearn."

"Then so you shall," the beggar replied. His entire persona changed in the blink of an eye - the frail, wrinkly old beggar became suddenly possessed of an almost regal air, and the wisdom of many decades gleamed in his one eye. Sokka was reminded of how Iroh had been able to change like that.

"But here is neither the proper place nor the proper time. Meet me tonight at Skully's inn in Fourth District, after dark." The beggar suddenly laughed, startling Sokka back a step. "I'll even be able to pay him this time, thanks to your gold coins. Until tonight, young Sokka."

Sokka nodded, and turned around. He had barely gone two steps before he realized that the beggar had called him by his first name. He whirled around, calling out, "how did you know my-"

But the beggar was gone, bowl and all.

_How the hell…_

Sokka shrugged. He wouldn't put anything past a member of the Order; not even disappearing into the middle of thin air. Sokka turned back around, preparing to merge back into the flow of bodies in the streets.

But directly in front of him, blocking his way, stood three soldiers in Fire Nation uniforms. To his dismay, Sokka realized that he recognized them. Two of them were the soldiers who had escorted him to the Quartermaster the day before. What were their names… oh yes, Janus and Ling. And the third was their Captain, the man with the sarcastic tone who had overseen the search of Sokka's wagon.

Sokka almost made a break for it right then and there, but then realized there was no way they could have recognized him. The hood of his cloak was pulled low, obscuring his face in shadow. He decided to act as though nothing was wrong, and see if he could bluff his way out of the situation. But from the way the Captain strode purposefully towards him, it seemed that for some reason Sokka had drawn his attention. Perhaps the hood itself was too conspicuous, although Sokka was by no means the only man in the crowd with his face covered.

The Captain spoke when he and his subordinates were barely five paces from Sokka. "You have a poor taste in friends, stranger. The man you were just talking to is wanted for crimes against the Empire."

"Really?" Sokka asked, trying to sound as innocent and clueless as could be. "I didn't realize begging had been outlawed in Ba Sing Se. My apologies, Captain. I'll be sure not to give any money to any of the other beggars around here."

The Captain's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Sokka cursed inwardly; this man was too smart to let him off the hook. "He's no more a beggar than you are a milkmaid," the Captain snapped. "That man is responsible for half of the organized crime in the Second District. Come with us to Headquarters – my superiors will want to ask you some questions."

"I had no idea!" Sokka exclaimed. "He seemed so harmless, and looked so much like my old grandfather, rest his soul, that I couldn't resist throwing him a few coins. But of course I'll come with you – I'm no criminal, and I'd be glad to help you catch him any way I can."

With that, Sokka started walking forward rapidly, hoping to close the distance between him and the guards so that he could incapacitate them without making too much of a spectacle. But the Captain once again proved his wiliness by preventing Sokka's advance. "Stop right there!" he barked. "Get on your knees, put your hands behind your head slowly, and lower your hood. You'll have the chance to prove your innocence later, but for now you'll walk with your hands tied. After all, we wouldn't want any… accidents."

That was it, then. Once Sokka revealed his face they would recognize him, and potentially even kill him on sight. Well, there was only one option available to him right now. Sokka just hoped he could end the fight quickly – marketplaces were some of the worst locations for a fight, because it was impossible to control the environment and you had to constantly differentiate potential threats from innocent bystanders.

Sokka stopped abruptly, and sank to his knees in front of the fruit stall. He noted out of the corner of his eye that the vendor had decided not to stick around, but instead was walking away quickly in the opposite direction. Sokka had a sneaking suspicion that the fruit vendor was connected somehow to the beggar – maybe a partner, or a lookout.

Turning back to the task at hand, Sokka raised his hands above his head, and slowly, ever so slowly, laced his fingers together and brought them to the top of his hood. As he pulled the hood down, his fingers twitched slightly to undo the laces inside both of his sleeves. When he pulled the small leather strips, the daggers secured inside his sleeves dropped into the palms of his hands. He gripped them tightly, and then threw back his hood in one motion.

The light of recognition flashed across the Captain's face. "You!" he cried, pointing to Sokka.

Sokka quirked one side of his mouth upward in an ironic smile. "Me," he agreed. Then his hands whipped forward, propelling the daggers toward Janus and Ling, who were less than three paces away. They barely had time to gasp, let alone try to avoid the sharp weapons headed directly for their hearts.

But the Captain was a step ahead of his subordinates. At the same time that Sokka threw the daggers, he threw his own arms out and pushed Janus and Ling in opposite directions. They narrowly escaped death, missing the daggers by so small a margin that the blades even scraped their armor on the way past. Janus went sprawling to the ground, while Ling was thrust unceremoniously into the busy thoroughfare on the main road. Once people began to realize that a fight with Fire Nation soldiers was starting, the stream of humanity thinned and gave Sokka and his opponents more of a wide circle in which to fight.

Sokka stood up slowly, never taking his eyes off of the Captain.

"Bruga," the Captain breathed softly, "if that is your real name. You murdered two of my men. I will see you hang for this, if it is the last thing I ever do."

"I commend your loyalty to your soldiers, Captain," Sokka answered. "But they are not the first to die by my blade, nor will they be the last. You say you value the lives of your subordinates? Then walk away now, and at least two of them will live to see another sunset." Sokka gestured disdainfully at Janus and Ling, who were looking a little pale yet determined after their brush with death.

The Captain set himself in the ready stance of a veteran fire bender. "Our duty to the Empire is more than just words. We will bring you to justice, or die in the attempt."

Janus and Ling stood behind their Captain, on either side. They held out the long spears common to the soldiers who weren't fire benders, tipped with gleaming steel heads each almost a foot long. The Captain moved first, executing the acrobatic flip that preceded a long-reaching flame attack. Sure enough, when the Captain lashed out with his right leg, a burst of flame erupted and shot at Sokka with a roar.

He dodged to the left, feeling the intense heat wash over him. His evasion brought him closer to Ling, who stepped forward and jabbed with his spear. Sokka lunged into a diving roll that sent him underneath the spearhead, and brought him to the fruit stall. He jumped behind the counter just in time to avoid another burst of flame that passed directly overhead.

Sokka peeked his head up, and saw the three soldiers advancing on his position, hoping to trap him in the stall. On the counter directly in front of him was an assortment of fruits of all shapes and sizes. He picked up a few pineapples, covered all over with spiky-looking projections, and hurled them at his assailants. The Captain kicked away the one aimed at him with a contemptuous snort, but Janus wasn't so lucky. The prickly fruit hit him flush in the face, and knocked him clean off his feet. When he stood up, his face was bright red with anger and embarrassment.

Sokka took the opportunity to jump over the counter, and then sprinted in the opposite direction of the guards. They hadn't been expecting him to run away, so it took the guards a second to start pursuing him. It would have been better to end things quickly, but the Captain was looking to be a very skilled fire bender, and a conservative fighter. He would keep on the defensive until more of his comrades showed up, and with every passing second things would get worse for Sokka. The best option was to run, and either escape directly or find a way to incapacitate them while they pursued.

Sokka deliberately picked a path that wove in and out of the many stalls in the marketplace. He tipped merchandise off the shelves, much to the dismay of the vendors and shopkeepers. He upturned carts and spilled goods of all descriptions in the path behind him, in the hopes of tripping up the guards. It was also satisfying to see the enraged looks on the merchant's faces as Sokka trashed quite a bit of their merchandise.

In this way he made it almost three blocks, leaving utter destruction and confusion in his wake. But the guards were dogged in their pursuit, and ran over and through everything he managed to send in their way. At last, Sokka made the mistake of turning onto a side street, which turned out to be a dead end. He cursed his bad luck, until he realized that the wall at the end was only a few feet taller than his height. With a running start, he could jump and catch the top.

He ran straight at the wall, hoping to reach it in time to scale it, but a spear went flying directly into his path. He stopped just in time - one more step, and it would have impaled him. Sokka turned around, knowing that he would have to fight his way out. If he went for the wall again, the soldiers would just kill him from behind.

"You're trapped," the Captain called out, panting a little after running in his armor. "Just make this easier on yourself, and give yourself up!"

"Yeah," Sokka agreed sarcastically. "That sounds like the smart move. Nice try, but I think I'll go with Option B."

Sokka discarded his hooded cape, letting it fall in a heap on the ground. He kicked it away so that it wouldn't be able to interfere with his footwork. Then he assumed a swordsman's stance, from which he could attack or defend with equal ease, and drew his sword Sorrow from its scabbard. The blade's black sheen seemed to drink in the sunlight, a shadow with a razor-sharp edge.

Janus and Ling gave twin gasps of surprise, while their Captain's face registered grim satisfaction.

"The last general of the Resistance," he said slowly, "Sokka of the Black Sword."

"So you know me, at least by reputation" Sokka said, smirking. "Then you should also know that unless you have twenty more men hiding in your pockets, you might as well cut your own threats as fight me."

"If you're so mighty, then where are your soldiers? You're all alone, pretending to be a spineless, groveling merchant… hardly likely to strike fear into my heart."

Sokka grimaced, but he couldn't exactly dispute that point. So he shrugged, and charged forward with his sword at the ready. The Captain met him with a blast of fire, but Sokka anticipated that and dodged to the side without losing any forward momentum.

He ran straight for Ling, who was missing his spear, having thrown in at Sokka to keep him from reaching the wall. Ling had pulled a sword from his scabbard, but due to its shorter length Sokka would be able to get in close before striking the first blow. And when Ling brought his sword up to parry Sokka's controlled slash, the black blade sheared completely through the weaker steel. Ling looked at the useless sword, his mouth open in astonishment.

Sokka would have taken his head off with his return swing, but Janus had moved quickly to cover his defenseless partner. He jabbed with his spear, forcing Sokka to leap backward instead of completing his attack. Their Captain pressed the attack ferociously, sending a barrage of fiery palm strikes that drove Sokka backward, dodging and ducking with frenzied agility.

But before Sokka was driven too far back into the alley, he reversed direction suddenly. Instead of charging at the Captain again, he ran in a tight arc by the side of the alley. He put on an extra burst of speed in order to beat the burst of flame that shot out horizontally. He leaped over and to the right, avoiding the flame and then pushing off from the wall with all of the strength that his legs possessed. The Captain was forced to jump backward to avoid being impaled, as Sokka's surprise attack had been too quick for him to counter with a defensive fire-bending shield.

Sokka let the Captain go, as he wasn't his immediate target. Instead, Sokka charged Janus, who was brandishing his spear to try and keep Sokka at bay. A quick feint won him an opening, which Sokka used to slice clean through the spear shaft. Janus was left holding a useless piece of wood, and this time Sokka wouldn't let the other guards ruin his advantage.

He grabbed onto the remaining part of the spear shaft, and gave a mighty pull. Janus didn't drop his grip in time, and so stumbled forward, close enough for Sokka to grab him around the neck and place his sword against the unfortunate guard's midriff.

Janus went limp, afraid to struggle for fear that Sokka would apply pressure. Ling and the Captain each took a step back, concern for their comrade plain on their faces.

Sokka didn't give them any time to formulate a strategy, instead rushing forward as quickly as he could while driving Janus in front of him. When the two other guards fell back a step closer to the wall, Sokka turned so that he was now between the guards and the entrance to the street.

Human shields were invaluable tools when fighting fire benders, because they couldn't use their more destructive attacks without roasting their fellow soldiers. Of course, you had to rely on the gamble that the fire benders you were fighting weren't so ruthless as to kill their comrades in the hope of also killing a wanted rebel. But from this Captain's attitude toward the men under his command, Sokka had been reasonably sure that he didn't have to worry about that.

That same sense of loyalty was also what Sokka was counting on to make his next strategy pay off. Precisely, almost surgically, Sokka stabbed his sword through Janus' leg. He purposefully avoided the larger arteries, which if severed would make Janus bleed to death in minutes.

Janus' agonized cry was echoed a second later by his fellow soldiers. Sokka then pushed Janus forward, and donkey-kicked him in the small of the back. He flew threw the air, knocking into both of the guards and sending all three into a bloody heap on the ground.

Sokka stood there long enough to say, "He'll live, as long as you don't waste any more time chasing me, but get him to a doctor."

Then he turned on his heel and ran, not looking back. But from behind him came the enraged voice of the Captain.

"_Sokka!_ My name is Tien Zhou, and I swear on my life that I'll kill you one day! You'll never be rid of me!"

_Damn_, Sokka thought, _that guy is tenacious!_

But if he was so determined to kill Sokka, so be it. Better men than he had tried, and Sokka was still kicking. If he ever met Tien Zhou again, the Captain wouldn't escape with his life.

He kept running, looking for a place where he could hide until nightfall. He had to make his way back through the Hive after dark, and get back to Skully's Inn in time to meet with the old beggar. Although if that was all he was, Sokka would eat his hat. Sokka had a lot of questions, and his new acquaintance was going to answer each and every one.

**A/N: **A little bit more action in this chapter, and there's more to come! In case you're wondering, Tien Zhou will show up again, and he'll be pissed. Next chapter we're back with Zuko, and things are really going to get crazy. Azula will make her first significant counter-move in her political battle against her brother, and Zuko will have to respond decisively if he wants to keep the upper hand. Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **In this chapter, we see Azula's first counter-attack. In response, Zuko makes a decision that will accelerate his plans considerably, and send him out of the capital on a mission.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender

**Zuko**

After Zuko's triumph at the Agni Kai, he expected Azula to strike back. His sister couldn't undergo such public humiliation without responding in kind; it just wasn't in her nature. So Zuko prepared himself to play the waiting game. He thought that in a few days, a week at most, Azula would make her next move. The next time, Zuko feared, Azula would do something considerably more devious.

As each day went by without incident, Zuko started to grow a bit apprehensive. The longer Azula waited, the more thought she would be putting into her twisted schemes. Zuko wanted his sister to be enraged, furious – but also stupid. Azula was prone to letting her rages push her to rash decisions, but she was also capable of harnessing her anger, and shaping it into a cold, deadly weapon. If that was what Azula was doing now, then she would soon become a much more dangerous opponent.

On the fifth day after the Agni Kai, Azula finally acted. Zuko only found out accidentally, when he was participating in the morning firebending exercises in the Royal Courtyard. As he was moving through the motions, he heard a series of low whispers running like wildfire through the ranks of bureaucrats.

"Did you hear…"

"…General Brant… that's right, arrested…"

"…what an awful thing… where did you hear?"

When Zuko made sense of the words, he experienced a curious sensation. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head, while at the same injecting molten lava in his veins. It was the feeling accompanying the realization that he might have seriously miscalculated – it was also the feeling that events were already spiraling far out of his control.

Zuko whirled, breaking the fluid procession of firebending forms. "What was that?" he snapped at a group of three portly scribes, the ones who had been gossiping. "Did something happen to General Brant?"

The scribes jumped, frightened by the suddenness of his action. The senior scribe, slightly fatter than the others and with his hair in a greasy ponytail, swallowed before answering. "Ah, Your Highness, my apologies. We were, ah… just discussing a rumor I heard from my cousin, who's a guard in the maximum security wing. Apparently General Brant was arrested late last night."

The scribe swallowed again, and his face went pale with fear. His small eyes shifted back and forth, as if looking for an escape route. "They say the charge is… _treason_."

Zuko stared at the scribes, who grew more and more scared at the thought that they might have somehow offended him. But in fact, he was looking right through them, his thoughts miles away. With a start, he came back to the present.

"I appreciate the information," Zuko said, forcing a small, insincere smile to his lips. "Did your cousin happen to tell you when the execution will take place?"

For there would be an execution, that was sure. Treason was perhaps the most serious crime one could commit in the Fire Nation, and the penalty was always death.

The fat scribe licked his lips nervously. "He didn't say… but if he was arrested last night, surely he will be executed tonight, at sundown."

"Thank you. You have rendered me good service," Zuko said. "I won't forget it."

The scribe looked as if he wished Zuko _would_ forget it, but he said nothing. Zuko could understand the impulse – for a lower-level functionary to draw the notice of any of the Fire Nation's elite, whether it was in a positive or negative way, generally didn't end well for the functionary. Fire Nation politics were a sea in which only the big fish could swim without fear of being eaten.

Zuko returned to the firebending forms, going through them mechanically. He could have left early, but it would have seemed strange to the hundred or so officials gathered in the courtyard. The last thing Zuko needed was gossip giving away his reaction to his sister. The second reason he stayed in the courtyard was because the exercises allowed him to clear his mind, and focus on the task at hand.

That Azula was behind this, Zuko was certain. It could only be a response to Zuko's public conversations with the General. Azula was sending the Palace a message: "_this is what happens to people who fraternize with my brother._" Only the day before, General Brant had been one of the most powerful men in the Fire Nation. Today he was a broken man, sitting in a cell and waiting to die. By tonight he'd be food for the crows.

One thing puzzled Zuko. Why the secrecy? If it hadn't been for a scribe and his soldier cousin, Zuko might not have learned about the execution until after it happened. If Azula really was trying to send a message, why would she try to keep the general's arrest secret?

It might, Zuko supposed, that Azula was worried about the General's popularity. He was sturdy as a rock, and dependable as a keystone that held up a giant bridge. There would be people, mostly military men with respect and power, who wouldn't believe that General Brant was a traitor no matter what Azula said. So Azula might have been aiming to hold the execution in secrecy, and announce that Brant was a traitor after the fact. That would keep Brant's supporters from coming to his aid, or publicly protesting his arrest.

It was daring, Zuko had to admit. With General Brant gone, Azula could probably replace him with one of her own supporters. Colonel Lao was certainly not up to the task, but there were other officers that Azula could either seduce or intimidate. If she played her cards right, and Zuko was sure that she would, she could end up with one of her supporters completely controlling the army.

For a moment, Zuko had to simply admire his sister. No matter how crazy or paranoid she might be, Azula thought big. She wasn't afraid to take risks, if the reward was big enough.

_So you know what she's trying to do,_ Zuko thought. _Now what are you going to do about it?_

It seemed too late to do anything about the execution. Even if he formally protested the charges against General Brant, it would come down to a case of his word against Azula's. In the worst case, Zuko might get branded a traitor as well. The end of that road was clear: it would resolve in an Agni Kai with his sister. Zuko understood that it might yet come to that, but he didn't want it to happen yet. Before he faced his sister on the battlefield, he wanted her to be utterly destroyed. He wanted her supporters to turn their backs on her, and her sanity to shatter entirely. Only then would he face her in battle.

But if he couldn't oppose the charges, could he perhaps get a candidate of his own promoted to General? That didn't seem like the correct course, because Azula would only target anyone she knew to be supporting Zuko. One thing was for sure: Zuko had to take advantage of the uproar that Brant's execution would cause. No one who knew Brant would believe that he was a traitor, which meant that the only logical explanation would be that he was framed. That would weaken Azula's support base in the army – if officers thought she had executed Brant for her own purposes, they would feel fear for themselves as well.

It was too bad Brant was going to die that night, Zuko mused. With his unparalleled gift for leadership, he would have been the perfect man to lead a rebellion. If Brant told the armies in the colonies that the Fire Nation princess was power-hungry, corrupt, and insane, he would be listened to. And surely, after becoming a victim to Azula's cruel lust for power, Brant would have enough reason to fight against her.

At that moment, realization struck Zuko so hard that he almost fell over. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Azula had tried to remove a potential opponent, but in doing so she had created an opportunity for Zuko. If he could rescue Brant from his cell and get him out of the Fire Nation, he might be able to recruit Brant to his side. After all, Brant had more reason than anyone except Zuko to want to kill Azula.

With Brant loose in the colonies, it might be possible to start a rebellion. There were entire legions of men that had served under Brant, and officers who trusted him with their lives and souls. If he said that the Fire Lord and his daughter had betrayed the spirit of the Fire Nation, he would be believed.

It would be one giant gamble, Zuko realized. The chances of failure were high, and the consequence of failure was death. But if it worked… if it worked, Azula would have another Resistance on her hands. Only this time, she would have essentially created it herself.

When the morning exercises ended, Zuko hurried back to his chambers. He packed a bag with some very important items: several pouches filled with gold coins, his signet ring, a few sets of riding clothes, more pouches filled with various different powders, and his stealth suit.

Zuko reviewed the plans of the maximum security wing of the prison in his mind. Its defenses were formidable, but nothing he couldn't handle. Getting in wouldn't be a problem – it was getting Brant out safely that would be the issue.

Luckily, Zuko already had a plan in place. When the Resistance had been at the height of its strength, Zuko and Katara had worked out a plan that would be put in effect if any of them were ever captured and held prisoner. Thanks to Zuko's privileged position (and a good deal of sneaking around), he had been able to get his hands on a copy of the prison blueprints without anyone noticing. That was how he knew there was an air duct, large enough for a man to crawl through, only a few feet past the wall at one point in the prison corridor.

Obviously the prison designers hadn't been so foolish as to have an opening to the air duct located near the prison cells, but Zuko didn't have to find an opening – he could make one. One of the powders he had packed was blasting powder. With a strategic amount and a makeshift fuse, Zuko or some other member of the Resistance would be able to blow a hole in the wall, at the point closest to the air duct. Then the escaping rebels could crawl through an air duct, to where it emptied out in a fairly out-of-the-way corner in the Servants' Wing. From there, one had only to slide down the chute used to empty food waste – an unpleasant voyage, to be sure, but the slops chute led all the way down to a giant system of underground canals. That was how the Palace disposed of its considerable waste: it pumped it out of the City through the underground canals, until it emptied out into a river flowing to the sea.

That was how Zuko was going to break General Brant free. If he was successful, he would never be able to use that method again, because the Fire Lord would tighten prison security to the point where not even an army could break a prisoner out. Still, freeing General Brant and enlisting his help against Azula was worth burning a few bridges.

There was one more thing that Zuko needed to take care of, to ensure that General Brant's escape would be untraceable. Zuko rang the servant's bell, which was a rope attached to a system of pulleys in the walls. Down in the Servants' Quarters, a bell would ring and summon Roshi.

Zuko's servant arrived within minutes, his uniform as crisp and neat as if he'd only just ironed and pressed it. For all Zuko knew, perhaps he had. Besides reporting his movements to Azula, heaven only knew how Roshi filled his time.

"Roshi," Zuko began, assuming the officious tone of a noble directing his servants. "I have urgent business in Omashu. I'm afraid it will take me out of the Capital today. Please go to the Royal Stables and ready my horse. When you're done with that, go to the mews and request a messenger hawk to be sent to the docks. I will be commandeering the next transport ship to Omashu."

Roshi betrayed his surprise only by the merest upward motion of one eyebrow. Once again, Zuko had to admire the unflappable servant. If he was told that the sky was about to fall, he would probably only bow, and say: "As Your Highness commands."

"Your Highness," Roshi ventured after a moment. "It is most unseemly for someone of your stature to travel alone. As your chief attendant, I humbly ask to accompany you."

_So you can report on me to my sister, eh? My, aren't we taking initiative today._

Aloud, Zuko gave a sigh of regret. "Alas, I have business that won't wait. That means I'll be riding as fast as I can to the docks, and I know how poorly you ride. It will be a great inconvenience to me not to have you by my side, but my duty is clear."

Roshi accepted this graciously, bowing low. "Then I will go immediately to do as you requested, Your Highness. I wish you a safe and productive journey."

Zuko nodded with all the cold grace of an aristocrat. "Thank you, Roshi. I have high hopes that it shall be… very productive indeed."

When Roshi was gone, Zuko smiled tightly. Immediately after readying his horse, Falsefire, and sending a messenger hawk to the docks, Roshi would tell Azula that Zuko was going to Omashu. No doubt Azula would send someone to the Main Gate of the Capital city, to watch as Zuko left. That was of the utmost importance - Azula had to believe that Zuko was out of the city by the afternoon.

That way, when General Brant disappeared without a trace before his execution, Zuko would have an ironclad alibi. Even if Azula guessed that Zuko was responsible, she wouldn't be able to accuse him of anything without sounding foolish. Of course, since he had told Roshi that he was going to Omashu, Zuko would actually have to go to Omashu in order to keep up the deception.

That was all right, though – Zuko had plans in Omashu as well. And they would make the perfect smokescreen to distract Azula, while General Brant gathered support in secret. But at that thought, Zuko reminded himself not to think too far ahead. Even if he managed to free General Brant, there was no guarantee that the General would agree to help him. The General was a man of honor, and just because Azula had betrayed him didn't mean that he would necessarily side with Zuko against the Fire Lord and his daughter.

Soon after Roshi left, Zuko finished packing. He had no need to bring much with him – once he reached Omashu, his status as a prince would ensure that he had rooms, clothes, and anything else he might require. Zuko went to the Royal Stables, which were conveniently located at the outskirts of the Palace compound. The Head Groom was standing at the entrance, waiting, holding the lead of Zuko's favorite horse.

Falsefire was a large gelding, trained in mounted warfare and the veteran of many years of battle. He had carried Zuko safely for years, although he didn't see much action when Zuko was cooped up in the Capital, pretending to be the pampered Prince. Still, the dedicated grooms made sure he stayed in fighting shape, and Zuko made time every few days to spend time with Falsefire, grooming him and taking short rides through the city streets.

Today he wasted no time in the stables, but mounted Falsefire, thanked the groom, and headed out into the city. He set off at a canter, forcing traffic to halt momentarily as common citizens and carts moved to the side to give him room. It was a flashy exit, sure to cause much comment, which was just what Zuko intended.

He reached the Main Gate, where the guards appeared to have been awaiting him. They came to attention immediately, one already cranking the winch that would open the enormous gates. Zuko suppressed a wince at the sight of the great Gate – it had been here, just outside, that his Uncle Iroh had fallen… But he had neither the time nor the inclination to relive the suffering of the past.

"Prince Zuko!" the Captain called down, from his position in the guardhouse at the top of the Gate. "We received word of your coming, and were told to relay to you that the messenger hawk has been sent. There is a trade ship scheduled to leave for Omashu tomorrow morning, under the command of Captain Qin. The Dock Overseer's house will be made available for you tonight."

"My thanks, Captain," Zuko responded, pitching his voice to carry. He continued on through the Gate, leaving the City for the giant road that led from the City to the Docks. He was surprised at how lucky it was that the next ship to Omashu was the next morning – that meant that he could sneak back in to the Capital, sneak out again, and make it to the Docks a little after nightfall without missing the ship. Then it was off to Omashu in the morning, hopefully with General Brant stowed away safely in the cargo bay.

Zuko rode down the road at nearly a gallop, heading due east. From the Capital to Omashu, the entire journey was almost entirely eastward. Zuko waited until he found a side road that headed into the wilderness. He had to find a good place to tether Falsefire, where he could change into his outfit and head back to the city on foot. He couldn't enter the City through the Gate, of course, but there were other ways – secret ways that only Zuko, Katara, and a few select leaders of the Resistance had known about.

_Just wait, General Brant, _Zuko thought. _In a few hours, you'll receive your formal invitation to join the Resistance._

oOoOo

At roughly 5:00 in the evening, with perhaps two hours of sunlight left, Zuko had made his way into the palace. Entering the city hadn't posed a challenge – the underground passage that he used brought him within a few hundred yards of the Palace Compound. With his knowledge of the guards' rotation, he was able to make it inside unnoticed. He slipped through the corridors, hiding behind doors and evading patrolling guards by the narrowest of margins, until he made it to the underground reaches of the prison. Here the corridors became narrower, and guards were stationed at every entrance and exit.

Zuko's goal was the maximum security prison, which actually wasn't all that intimidating. Just as the standards of the armed forces had dropped a little following the successful conquest of most of the known world, the standards of the prison guards had dropped with the complete lack of prisoners to guard. General Brant was probably the first new political prisoner in the maximum security wing in years.

The only thing Zuko really had to worry about was the first line of defense – the Cage. The Cage was a security precaution in the first corridor, which was the only way to access the maximum security cells. Eight guards were stationed in that corridor, day and night. If anyone tried to breach the corridor, their job was to pull one of the levers that lined both walls. Once that happened, thick iron spikes would shoot down on either end of the corridor, trapping the intruders in along with the guards. At the same time that the iron spikes came down, an alarm would go off, alerting other guards throughout the prison about the security breach.

That was the challenge that met Zuko – he had to get by these guards without triggering the alarm or getting caught in the Cage. He had a plan, but unfortunately it meant the deaths of all eight guards. He would have preferred to leave them alive – it was Azula and Ozai that Zuko wanted to kill, not nameless soldiers with families who were only following orders. Still, it was the only way.

Zuko was in the hallway approaching the cage. He could hear the eight soldiers chatting, obviously bored by the monotonous duty. From the pack he was wearing, Zuko took out four pouches filled with a powder specially made in the weapons factories of the Fire Nation. The pouches were essentially smoke bombs, but they contained an extremely special type of smoke. It was infused with coal dust, and was highly flammable, yet not combustible. Throwing the smoke bombs created a thick cloud that completely obscured one's vision. Then, with the merest touch of flame, the entire cloud would ignite, creating a solid wave of fire that burnt out in a few seconds, charring anyone or anything unlucky enough to be caught in the cloud.

Zuko prepared himself, feeling the adrenaline begin to pump through his veins. He tossed the bombs around the corner, low to the ground, aiming to get two on each side, near the walls. The smoke burst from the pouches immediately, expanding first between the guards and the walls, but then covering the entire corridor in thick smoke. Zuko, who had pulled off one of his black gloves, snapped his fingers and sent a small puff of flame forward. The coal dust caught fire instantly, and the black cloud turned into a hellish inferno. The poor guards tried to scream, but smoke and fire filled their lungs, and it was too late.

When the fire burned down, eight corpses had fallen to the ground, and no levers had been pulled. Zuko hurried through, resolutely ignoring the stench of burned flesh and charred leather. Zuko sent up a prayer for their souls as he ran. _I'm sorry, _he apologized silently. _I hope you end up in a better world than this._

Zuko had about an hour before the guard changed, and his intrusion was noticed. He had to work fast.

After the first corridor, Zuko navigated through the maze of twisting hallways of the prison. Guards were stationed in pairs at the end of each hallway, but Zuko had no trouble immobilizing them. He left a trail of unconscious bodies in his wake, as he got closer and closer to the cell farthest underground, where he knew instinctively that Azula had put General Brant.

Sure enough, the general was being held in the darkest, dankest cell in the prison. The walls were rough, unhewed stone, and water dripped through cracks and plopped onto the floor.

In front of the cell were stationed two guards, whom Zuko had to take of before he could free the General. He became a whirlwind of motion, throwing his body forward in a spinning kick that caught the first guard's jaw. The man's helmet spun around, and the guard himself went sprawling into his partner, knocking him off balance. Zuko kept up his momentum by lunging toward the second guard. He grabbed the guard's spear with one hand and twisted, wresting it from his grip as the guard fell to the ground. Zuko drove the butt of the spear into his midriff, hard enough to bruise a few ribs and knock the air completely out of his lungs.

The guards, already overcome, put up no resistance as he removed their helmets and knocked them unconscious. Panting slightly, Zuko stood up, and turned to get his first glimpse of General Brant.

He was shocked by what he saw. The general was dressed in rags, and bruises covered his face and arms. But more shocking still were his eyes – these were not the hard, flinty eyes of a man who had faced down armies and refused to bend. Instead, Brant had the haunted look of a man who had been through hell. This was a strong man, a hard man… yet Azula had broken him.

Brant had watched Zuko's fight without any curiosity – for all the emotion he showed, the masked stranger fighting the guards at his cell might not have existed at all.

"General," Zuko said, trying to describe his voice. "I'm here to rescue you."

Brant turned away, his dead eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. "You wasted your time," he said flatly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"What?" Zuko said, his astonishment sincere. "They're going to kill you, at sundown."

When he answered, the general's voice held no inflection at all. He might have been commenting on the weather. "They already have. My wife and son are dead."

Zuko swore inside. It was well-known that Brant had married for love, rather than for personal gain as most aristocrats chose to do. It appeared that Azula had decided to do more than kill Brant for treason. She had chosen to destroy him first, by killing everyone close to him. It was more than cruel – it was monstrous.

And it was Zuko's fault. He knew this with an unflinching conviction. If Zuko hadn't drawn Brant into his game with Azula, if he hadn't publicly pretended to discuss secret matters behind Azula's back, perhaps Azula would have made Brant her target. Because of Zuko's revenge, Brant had lost everything. Not just his job, his reputation, or his life, but everyone that was precious to him. Zuko knew that pain only too well – and because of his own maneuvering, he had visited that pain on another.

For the first time in over year, Zuko felt guilt. And he knew, without having to question how he knew, what he had to do. If he didn't attempt to atone for his crime, he would be betraying Katara's memory. He would become the monster that he knew Azula to be.

Zuko stepped forward, and reached toward his mask. "I am sorry for your loss, General. I know it means less than nothing now, but I am truly sorry." He removed his mask, looking the General square in the eye.

The effect was that of striking a piece of flint to make a spark. The General came to life in an instant, recognition and then hatred spreading across his face. He stood up from his cot, and put his hands around the thick metal bars of his cell. The veins in his neck bulged, and he stared at Zuko as if he were a viper.

"_You_," the general whispered. "You planned this."

Zuko shook his head. "I didn't. I taunted Azula, knowing that she would react, but I didn't know what she would do."

Zuko stooped over one of the unconscious guards, and took the ring of keys from his belt. He picked the one that fit the lock of the cell, and opened the door.

The general lunged, and Zuko made no move to resist. It was like being run over by a bull – the General gripped Zuko with the mad strength of grief, and smashed him into the wall. He held him by the throat, lifting him a foot off of the ground.

"You did this," he whispered, his eyes filled with a wild grief. "My family is dead because of you. _Why_?"

Zuko choked, unable to speak or even breathe because of Brant's hold on him. His captor held on a second longer, then released Zuko. He slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. But he stood up again, and met the general's eyes. "Because I, too, have lost the people I love at Azula's hand. Everything I have done for the last eight years has been with the sole aim of bringing down my father and Azula. She killed Iroh, the one man I loved and respected more than anyone else in the world. All of my friends, my loved ones – they are all dead at the hands of the Fire Nation."

Brant's eyes widened as he listened. "So I was a tool," he said bitterly. "You used me to get to Azula."

Zuko bowed his head. "I did."

"Tell me," Brant said, his fury tightly restrained, yet so close to the surface it seemed ready to burst out at any second. "Did you know what she would do? Were the deaths of my family in your _plan_?"

The regret in Zuko's voice was unfeigned. "I didn't intend their deaths, but it is my fault that they are killed. I provoked Azula, and I know full well her intentions. But I swear to you, on the memory of all those I have loved, on the very soul of the man who was as a father to me, that I didn't intend for them to die. If I had known what Azula was planning, I would have done my best to get them out of the Capital safely. But she outmaneuvered me."

Brant stood there, the top of his head barely coming up to Zuko's nose, but he seemed to tower over him like an angel of judgment. "So it's true," he said at last. "My wife and child are dead because of you."

Zuko accepted this without a pause. "I cannot bring them back to you, any more than I can bring back my own loved ones. But I can do my best to settle the scales. Kill me now – I will not resist."

Zuko sank to his knees, holding his head proudly upright. Dying here meant that his plans would never come to fruition, but that mattered little. He was responsible for what had happened to Brant, and it was the general's right to demand his life. It was Zuko's choice to die with what little honor he had left. Katara would understand why he did it. Zuko only hoped that she would forgive him for dying without completing what he'd set out to do.

Brant stood over him, the general's eyes like chips of diamond holding Zuko enthralled. "You didn't have to free me," the general said abruptly. "You could have kept me in my cell, but instead you let me out. That tells me that you have some idea of honor. I have the strange idea that if you made me a promise, I could trust your word."

"If it is in my power, I will do anything you ask."

Brant stepped back, allowing Zuko to regain his feet. "Know this," Brant said coldly. "I don't, and will never, forgive you. But killing you is not enough. You didn't hold the sword that cut down my beloved wife. You didn't bend the flames that killed my son, roasting him alive as I was forced to watch. No, that was someone else: Azula."

Zuko took those images and imprinted them in his heart. He had thought that after Katara's death, he could never feel pain again. But imagining Azula kill Brant's family sent fresh agony coursing through him, all the worse because it might have been avoided if he had anticipated what Azula would do. Zuko stood in silence, awaiting Brant's next words.

"Do you know what she said to me?" Brant asked, though it wasn't really a question. "In my chambers, with my family dead at my feet, Azula spoke with me. She was very matter-of-fact. 'Do you know why I did this?' she asked me. 'It's not because I'm afraid that you're working with my foolish brother. Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. But you're a man of principle, and that makes you unpredictable. Your loyalty is to the Empire, not to me. I want a General who realizes that I _am_ the Empire. That's why you have to go. And the fact that it will hurt Zuko makes the thought of your death so much sweeter."

By this time the general wasn't even seeing Zuko – his mind was caught up in the horrific memory. "That's why she did it," he whispered slowly. "Because I tried to do my duty. That made me… _unpredictable_." He spat the word out as if it was poisonous. Then he seemed to come out of his trance, and focused again on Zuko.

"That's why you're not already dead," he said. "You can help me get to Azula. I swear, if it's the last thing I do, I'll make that bitch pay."

Zuko, who had been resigned to death, now saw his original plan come back to life. Brant wanted Azula dead, too. The question was, to what lengths would he go to accomplish it?

"I've already told you," Zuko began, "that killing Azula has been my aim for a long time. At first it was a matter of principle – I was part of the Resistance, and I believed firmly that the Fire Nation was tyrannical and oppressive. I still believe that, but now my aims are less exalted than freeing the world from the Fire Lord's yoke. Now I just want my sister and my father to burn. But killing Azula is not as simple as challenging her to an Agni Kai. For one thing, she might defeat me – she killed Iroh, and my uncle was the strongest firebender I know. Still, Azula is vulnerable. And I mean to destroy her utterly. If I can bring down the Fire Nation Empire along with her, then I will do so."

General Brant regarded Zuko with a kind of fascinated loathing, and more than a little wary respect. "So you were the spy coordinating the Resistance all those years? Everyone thought you were a prancing coward, too afraid to challenge Azula for the right to become heir. And all the time you were fighting against us…"

"Do you still think of the Fire Nation as 'us,' General?" Zuko asked. "There used to be ideals that governed our nation. But under Ozai and Azula, there is only bloodshed, slavery, and oppression. What Azula did to you, she does to tens of thousands of families over the world. But now's not the time for that discussion. Right now, the crucial question is this: how far will you go to bring about Azula's downfall? Would you start a rebellion?"

"What?" The general stared at him in surprise.

"I asked, would you start a rebellion? Thousands of troops are loyal to you personally. They know that you aren't a traitor, and it is only Azula's paranoia and lust for power that drove the accusation of treason. Soldiers would follow you – they would fight for you. With my help, we could begin a Resistance larger than any the Empire has faced before."

The General regarded Zuko with a level gaze. "You're asking me to lead my men to their deaths, all for revenge."

"If men choose to follow you, it's because they believe in your cause. And in any case, the aim is not to try and win against the rest of our army. The purpose is to present Azula with a visible threat. Nothing is as visible as legions of soldiers deserting because they believe the heir to be mentally unstable. And while Azula tries to hunt down your men, I can coordinate with you to keep them safe. You and your men will stay on the run, on the outskirts of the Empire. The longer the threat lasts, the worse for Azula. Meanwhile, I'll be poised in the Capital, where she will continue to see me as a greater and greater threat. It will chip away at her sanity, and the longer it goes the more people will see how unstable she is."

Grant rubbed his chin with one hand. "You've thought about this a lot. I can almost believe you… but if I help you, that still doesn't change the fact that if it weren't for you, my wife and son might still be alive. Even if you help me kill Azula, it doesn't change that fact."

"I understand," Zuko said, bowing his head once again. "I propose a solution that will work for both of us. You fight for me, and raise a rebellion among the legions in the colonies. I will do all in my power to provide you with information about the army's movements, so that you can keep your men safe from the Empire's counter-attacks. Together, we will bring Azula down. And when she is dead, I will submit myself to your justice."

The two men stared at each other, until Brant nodded decisively. "That is acceptable. I'll follow your orders only until Azula is dead. After that, your life is mine."

It was an agreement between two men of honor, and as such it created a clear understanding between them. Brant would one day kill Zuko, and Zuko would let him. But until that day, they would work together with a single purpose. And both would trust absolutely that the other wouldn't betray him.

The pounding of armored feet interrupted the tense moment. "That'll be the change of the guard," Zuko commented drily. "We should probably get moving."

"I assume you have an escape plan," Brant replied, his voice every bit as dry. "I'm not at my best, and I don't think I can fight my way through the entire Palace guard."

Without answering, Zuko took out the explosives he had brought along. Half he attached to the ceiling at the narrowest point in the hallway, gluing the pouches of blasting powder with sticky putty. Then he attached two short fuses, and lit them with a quick burst of fire.

As the fuses burnt out, Zuko placed the rest of his blasting powder on the ground, right up against the wall on the right side of the prison floor. According to his blueprints, it was the spot closest to the air vent.

There was a deafening explosion as the first round of blasting powder exploded. Huge chunks of stone ripped out of the ceiling and fell to the ground, sealing off the hallway completely. The sound of the guards' approaching footsteps halted, as they were hesitant to approach an area that might have been booby-trapped. Then the second explosion triggered, and a roughly circular hole was blasted from the wall. Through the hole was a hollowed-out tunnel lined with metal: the air vent. Zuko led the way, gesturing for Brant to follow him.

"Damn," the general said, having watched the explosions with interest. "Quite effective."

Zuko called back over his shoulder. "Don't thank me quite yet. This air vent is only the first step – next we have to escape through the slop chute in the Servants' Quarters. And today they served stew…"

They hurried deeper into the bowels of the Palace, anxious to escape before the Guard could get past the makeshift landslide.

oOoOo

Hours later, under cover of darkness, Zuko and General Brant rode side-by-side on the road to the docks. After reaching the slops chute, they had made it to the canal pumping the Palace's garbage into the river. It had been every bit as disgusting as Zuko had expected, but they reached flowing water safely. Twenty minutes of hard swimming had carried them safely away from the City, and had also washed away the coating of slime and decomposing food that had covered them after jumping down the chute.

They had come ashore at a point that was close to where Zuko had left Falsefire. They had ridden on Zuko's horse together, until they came to a farm after dark. Disguised in his black outfit, Zuko had intimidated the farmer into parting with one of his animals. Now Zuko and Brant were on their way to the docks, at the easternmost part of the main Island in the Fire Nation archipelago. Once they got there Brant would hide in the cargo bay of their ship, while Zuko would sleep in the Overseer's house until their departure in the morning.

"Why are we going to Omashu?" the General asked quietly, while they trotted at a casual pace down the road.

Zuko stretched a little, enjoying the feel of a new, dry set of clothes. He had reluctantly ditched his stealth suit, since it was soaked through and would be hard to hide when he reached the Overseer's house.

"We're going to Omashu for two reasons," Zuko replied. "The first is that it is an important Army stronghold, with many military officers who know and respect you. It will be a good place to begin finding support. But the second reason is that Omashu is where I need to go to implement the next step in my plan to drive Azula over the edge."

"Oh?" Brant asked skeptically. "And what's that?"

Zuko smiled in the darkness, though Brant wouldn't see it. "Well, Azula almost never lets anyone close to her. For her, 'friend' is another word for 'someone who can stab you in the back.' She doesn't let people close to her – with one, only one, exception. And that exception happens to be the Governor of Omashu."

Comprehension dawned, and General Brant said, "Ah. Her."

Zuko chuckled. "That's right. Her."

"Her" referred to Mai, Azula's closest friend in the world. And after Ty Lee's death a few years after the Avatar's fall, Mai was in all likelihood Azula's only friend. But she was so much more than that.

Mai was a legend in the Fire Nation. Not only was she the highest-ranking woman in the Empire apart from Azula, but she was feared by everyone who knew her. For many years, it was said that she had been Azula's personal assassin. A string of deaths a mile long was attributed to Mai, though nothing had ever been proven against her. It was said that if you offended Azula, the last thing you saw was one of Mai's spikes burying itself in your eye. In the Palace, and in places where her reputation was known, Mai was not called by her name. She was called the "Whisper Woman," so named for the slight whispering sound her throwing knives made as they cut through the air.

Zuko had not seen her in many, many years. He had a vague memory of a nice girl that he had been fond of, but that was before he had been banished. Everything had changed since then, and Zuko didn't doubt that Mai had changed as much as he had.

For the last two years, Mai had been the Governor of Omashu, and was the only female Fire Nation citizen to hold such a title. The previous governor had been Mai's father, and the story of how Mai had won the position was still used as a cautionary tale to warn people in the Palace not to cross Azula.

Azula had officially given Mai the title of Governor, as a reward for her "valued service to the Fire Nation." When Mai's father, a cold man with little love for his daughter, had protested the appointment, Azula had called him out in an Agni Kai. Mai had watched, stone-faced, while Azula slaughtered her father. Mai's mother had wasted away, drained by her hysterical grief, and died months later. Mai had assumed the Governorship, and continued to govern Omashu to that day. She remained the closest thing Azula had to a confidant, although the distance between them meant that they presumably didn't meet very often.

When General Brant spoke again, his voice held the respectfully surprised tone that he had started to use when Zuko impressed him. Evidently he was still adjusting to the real Zuko, after so long thinking that the Prince was useless and incompetent. "So I'll be raising an army, while you'll be targeting Azula's closest friend. Both kinds of warfare: on the battlefield, and in the mind. It could be devastating, if we coordinate our efforts."

"That's what I'm hoping," Zuko replied honestly.

"So what are you going to do?" the General asked. "Kill Mai?"

"No," Zuko answered. "Not at all. I'm going to propose marriage."

At the General's shocked silence Zuko only grinned, and urged Falsefire to greater speed.

**A/N: **It's been a long time since the last update, but I hope there were enough developments to keep you satisfied! Next chapter is Sokka's, and we'll see how his search for the Order of the White Lotus brings him to Omashu, as well! See you next time, and don't forget to review!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I'm back again, after a long and reluctant hiatus. If you're following this or any of my other stories, rest assured – I'm going to be writing much more in the summer, once my thesis is done.

As for this chapter, it was inspired by _Firefly_, a fantastic show created by Joss Whedon that was canceled far too soon. Sokka takes another step on his road to finding the Order of the White Lotus, and the stage is set for all of the pieces to come together in Omashu.

Next chapter will be a big one – Brant and Zuko will reach Mai's court, where Zuko will reveal his diabolical marriage proposal scheme :) And Sokka will find out what Toph has been doing for all these years. With everyone in the same city, the shit is definitely going to hit the fan. Stay tuned!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender

**Sokka**

Sokka made his way swiftly through the maze of streets in the Pit, on the lookout for any Fire Nation patrols brave enough to venture so far from the barracks after nightfall. Normally soldiers would stay far away from Ba Sing Se's seedy underworld at night, when more disreputable types ruled the streets. But the knowledge that Sokka of the Black Sword was at large somewhere in the city had surely spread. That meant that there would be a reward for his capture, and greed would lure many soldiers into the Fourth District in the hopes of capturing him.

So he kept to the shadows, cloak pulled low over his face, and more than once he ducked into a side alley when he saw the tell-tale glow of torches in the distance. Sokka kept his scabbard conspicuously exposed, sending the message to anyone watching that there were better marks to be found elsewhere. Thanks to a combination of quick wits, quicker feet, and a good deal of luck, Sokka managed to reach Skully's Inn without being discovered or having to knock any heads.

Just as before, conversation died out for a moment when Sokka entered the tavern. He peered around the room, his eyes lingering for a moment when he recognized a familiar face. It was Tamlin, the footpad who had learned the hard way not to take Sokka lightly. The man wore a dark scowl, and turned away from Sokka to his tankard of beer. Sokka hid a smile.

Once the voices picked up again, Sokka approached Skully at the bar. The bartender eyed him with interest, going so far as to put down the mug he was drying. "You again," he said with a nod. "I'd ask what you're drinking, but I don't want you breaking no more of my wares."

"I apologize for before," Sokka said, taking the seat on the far right of the bar. "I lost my cool for a second… it won't happen again."

The bartender resumed drying his mug, focusing on it intently. When he spoke, his voice held poorly feigned disinterest. "Seems you have a powerful dislike of Prince Zuko. Any reason in particular as to why?"

Sokka sighed. "I can understand your curiosity. But my business is mine alone, and I don't take kindly to anyone nosing around in it."

"Fair enough," the innkeeper said. "As you said, just curious. Now unless I'm mistaken, you have an appointment here tonight."

"I believe so. Don't know the man's name, but he's hard to miss, what with the eye patch and all. You seen him?"

"Reckon I might've." The bartender pointed to the back of the room, where a set of rickety stairs led upward, out of sight. "We have a few rooms upstairs. Our mutual friend is waiting for you in one of them."

"I don't know if I'd call him a _friend_," Sokka said, slipping a coin onto the table with a nod of thanks to the innkeeper. "Thanks for your help… and your discretion."

Sokka left the bar, conscious of many pairs of eyes watching him as he approached the stairs. He turned and gave a cheeky wave before disappearing from view. The stairs opened onto a narrow hallway. The lack of windows or escape routes made Sokka feel acutely claustrophobic, and he moved quickly in search of the man he was supposed to meet. After passing a painting of a wrinkled old merchant with beady eyes that seemed to follow him, Sokka came to a door that was left open a crack. A pale, flickering light shone from underneath.

Sokka moved to knock on the door, when a familiar voice piped up from within the room. "It's open. Please, come in."

Resisting the urge to keep one hand on Sorrow's hilt, Sokka entered the room. He scanned the interior instinctively, first noting the window that could be used to escape if need be. They were only two stories up, so the fall wouldn't kill him. The rest of the room was small, but comfortable. There was a small basin for washing up next to the door, and a cot was pushed up against the far wall. In the center of the room was a wooden table, with six chairs arranged in a loose circle around it. Already seated was the man Sokka had come to see, the beggar who knew his name and held the key to finding the Order of the White Lotus.

He watched Sokka with a small smile, his uncovered eye twinkling. In his hand was a pewter mug, from which he took a long drink, and sighed in satisfaction. "Take a seat, young Sokka," the beggar said, gesturing toward the chair opposite with his mug. "Please, be my guest. It's only fitting, considering I'm spending your coin."

Sokka sat down, pushing the chair back slightly so the table's edge wouldn't interfere with him drawing his sword. Of course, his first move in case of trouble wouldn't be drawing his sword. Knives were much faster, and this close, a man as old as the beggar seemed to be couldn't dodge in time.

Sokka smiled at the self-proclaimed beggar, though his teeth ground a bit. "From what I hear, you have no need of my coin at all."

His mysterious host laughed shortly. "There's always a need for more coin. That was true before the Fire Nation became an empire, and it will continue to be true long after their rule has faded into memory."

Sokka had no patience for this philosophical nonsense. It was time to get straight to the point. "So why pretend to be a beggar? You do a good impression, that's for sure. But that soldier seemed pretty sure you were skirting the wrong side of the law."

The beggar raised an eyebrow. "'Skirting'? Is that what he said? I assure you I have never 'skirted' anything in my life."

"To be honest, he said you were responsible for half of the organized crime in the city."

The beggar placed his mug on the table, a grin spreading across his face. "That's more like it. Although that's only the half he knows about. Tien Zhou's tenacious, but he has a ways to go before he poses a serious threat to my interests."

Sokka growled under his breath. "So you do know that bullheaded soldier. And you saw him coming, but you left without a word of warning. So you lied to me about your identity, and then you left me to die on the streets… forgive me if I'm having a few trust issues."

The beggar looked at him as if he was stupid. "Of course I didn't warn you. What kind of a test would it have been if you saw the danger coming? I needed to know how resourceful you are."

Sokka opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he say to that, really? The beggar's complete lack of shame was difficult to argue with. He let out a heavy sigh. "So what do I call you? I mean, I can think of a few things I'd _like_ to call you, but that wouldn't be much help."

"Call me Harn. I'll answer to that as quick as anything else." Harn extended his hand, which Sokka shook warily.

"All right," Sokka said. "Since I've passed your little test, how about giving me the information I need?"

"Ah, about the Order?" Harn adjusted his eye patch slightly to the left. "Well, first off, I used to be part of it."

Sokka raised an eyebrow skeptically. Well, it made more sense for a master criminal to have ties to the Order of the White Lotus than a random beggar, but it still didn't quite seem to fit. "And I'm supposed to take your word for it."

Harn shrugged. "Not much else you can do, I'm afraid. There's no way for you to know that I'm telling the truth, except for me to say that old Iroh was the Grand Master of the Order before his death. The Order and I parted ways before that, though. I wanted to be a little more… independent. And ever since the old graybeard kicked the bucket, the Order has lost what little spine it had. I could put you in touch with them, but I doubt you'll find what you're looking for."

Sokka crossed his arms aggressively. "And how would you know what I'm looking for?"

Harn looked at him as if he was an idiot. The old man's eyebrows waggled a bit, reminding Sokka of Uncle Iroh when the man was goofing around. "You're Sokka of the Black Sword, possibly the last living leader of the Resistance. Your forces have gone into hiding, and now you seek the Order of the White Lotus. It doesn't take a genius to guess what you want. And I can tell you, you're better off whistling than asking the Order to help you fight the Fire Nation."

Sokka's heart sank, but his resolve didn't waver. "I don't care if it's a long shot. Right now, it's the only chance I have. Are you going to tell me how I can find them, or has this all just been a colossal waste of time?"

"Easy there," Harn said, amusement clear in his voice. "You young folks never appreciate the importance of patience. Now, I'm ready and willing to give you the information you want. But then, nothing's free in this world. If you want what I know, you'll have to do me a little favor first."

"My gold wasn't enough?" Sokka asked wryly.

"I'm running a risk by revealing the Order's secrets to you," Harn replied firmly. "They don't like people messing in their business, especially people who try to get them to do what they don't want to. If it comes out it was me who told you, I could get in some trouble. The Order may not be what it once was, but they can still make life terribly uncomfortable for those who get in their way."

"Fine," Sokka said impatiently. Truth be told, he didn't care what the price was. "I'll help you out. What kind of favor are we talking about?"

Harn grinned like a shark. "Just a little… consulting."

"Huh?"

"Just hold on a second." Harn went to the door and opened it wide. "Let me introduce you to the people you'll be working with."

Sokka heard several pairs of footsteps approaching the door. Then four of the oddest-looking people he had ever seen walked into the room.

The first was a giant of a man, his head even with the doorframe. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, and his sleeveless vest looked about to burst. His rust-brown hair was cropped short, and he had two long-handled hammers strapped across his back. He ducked his head respectfully to Harn as he passed. "Hello, Boss. Good to see you."

Harn shook his hand. "Doran. Right on time." The big man looked Sokka up and down with a critical eye. Sokka stood up, but then wished he hadn't. Even standing, the difference in height between the two of them was remarkable. Sokka shifted a little, getting his balance adjusted. He wasn't intimidated, just… sensibly wary.

The second one to enter the room was a woman wearing a form-fitting outfit of mottled gray and black. She moved with the grace of a dancer – or a fighter. Sokka noted immediately the indents of weapons inside her sleeves and pant legs. She had pale blond hair, cut at shoulder length, and blue eyes like chips of ice. The woman passed Harn without saying a word, her attention wholly on Sokka. She sent him a defiant smirk and stood next to the giant.

The third newcomer cut a much less imposing figure than the other two. He was a shorter man, several inches shorter than Sokka, and his clothes were ragged and patched in a dozen places. The only things he wore that seemed of any value were his shoes – they made no sound as he advanced across the wooden floor. The man had shifty eyes, and as Sokka watched him, he thought the man's fingers kept twitching.

Harn clapped the man on the back. "Vetch."

The runty man gave him a gap-toothed grin. "Harn. The gang's all here. Looks like the fun's about to start!"

"This isn't a game," said the fourth and last to enter. He was a young man, probably no more than twenty (and when exactly had Sokka begun to consider that _young_?). He wore rough homespun clothes that appeared well used, yet well cared for. With his open, sun-tanned face and his broad, scarred hands, he looked more like a farmhand than a member of Ba Sing Se's criminal elite. He was currently glaring at the shorter man as if greatly offended.

"That's where you're wrong, Fulco," Harn said, shaking his head as if disappointed in the young man. "This certainly is a game. And we're going to win it." He surveyed the four newcomers with approval. "Well, what are you waiting for? Introduce yourselves to Sokka. He's the one who's going to get you through the night alive."

The giant spoke up first. "I'm Doran. Harn calls me whenever he needs a bit of heavy lifting."

After shaking Doran's hand, Sokka had to rub his wrist ruefully. Then the little man came forward, though he kept a wide distance between them. "They call me Vetch. I get into those hard-to-reach places where rick folks keep their valuables." He pulled out a few lock picks from somewhere within his loose overshirt and twirled them around his fingers.

The woman was next. "Livia," she said.

"And what do you do, Livia?" Sokka asked, although he had a pretty good idea.

Livia grinned at him. "I'm Harn's expediter. I make problems go away." Sokka returned the grin. He thought the two of them would get along just fine.

"And I'm Fulco," the youngest man said. He glared at Sokka as well, his lower lip sticking out petulantly.

"I see what they bring to the table," Sokka said, waving at Doran, Vetch, and Livia. "The big man could probably break my spine with his pinkie, for instance. I mean no offense, but you seem a little less… impressive."

In answer, Fulco stomped the ground, looking like nothing so much as an angry child. What Sokka didn't expect was for the stone washbasin against the wall to come flying at him like a cannonball.

He reacted instantaneously, rolling to the side and coming up in a ready stance. Sokka held out his hands, trying to forestall another attack. "My apologies, Fulco. I stand corrected."

Sokka took another look at the criminals – for they must be criminals, if they worked for Harn – and whistled. With an earthbender among them, those four were a formidable group indeed.

"These are some of my best people," Harn said. "When they're not behaving like children and throwing things around, that is," he added, causing Fulco to blush with embarrassment. "I've gathered them all together for an extremely important job. You might call it a burglary, or maybe a kidnapping. More of a re-kidnapping, I suppose…"

"Are you physically incapable of explaining things clearly?" Sokka snapped.

Fulco stepped forward, the young man's face pale and earnest. "It's my sister. She was kidnapped by a rich merchant. He owns the mines that support our village, and he came to inspect them one day, about three months ago. He caught a glimpse of my sister, and then…" Fulco shook his head, smiling in painful remembrance. "Riv always did have that effect. Too beautiful for her own good. I was working in the mines when they took her. When I heard what I happened, I left for Ba Sing Se immediately. Harn agreed to help me save her."

"He's skipping over a few things," said Doran the giant. "Like how he killed three overseers to escape the village, lived off the land for weeks, and would have assaulted the merchant's stronghold by himself if Harn hadn't found him first."

Sokka looked again at the earthbender. Fulco had thrown away his life to come here. A renegade earthbender would fetch a reward high enough to make a man wealthy. He must have known that the cost of trying to save his sister was a lifetime of running, of looking over his shoulder. But he hadn't hesitated for a second. That was something Sokka could appreciate.

"You're a man after my own heart, Fulco. I'm with you until your sister's safe and sound, and the kidnapping bastard gets what's coming to him."

Doran grunted in approval, but Vetch only grumbled, "Great, another bleeding heart. Boss, these fools might be willing to storm the castle to save the princess, but I expect to get paid at the end of this, all right?"

"Of course," Harn replied. He ushered them all back to the table, and unrolled two scrolls side-by-side on the table. One was a map of Ba Sing Se, laying out the streets in perfect detail for a large section of Second District. The second scroll was the floor plan for the merchant's home, each room on the first floor clearly labeled.

"This is where you come in," Harn told Sokka, gesturing to the maps. "With your military expertise, you can devise a plan to get us in and out while making sure that no harm comes to Fulco's sister. It won't be easy. The merchant in question, Lao Tsu, is extremely paranoid. He lives in a remote part of Second District, even though he has the money to stay in First District. He prefers to stay isolated, and instead of relying on the regular patrols, he employs an entire cohort of mercenaries to guard his mansion."

"With the floor plans," Sokka said, plans starting to take shape already, "we can get in. But unless you have a complete schedule of the guards' rotation, there's no guarantee we can avoid them. Which means that we'll have to count on it coming down to a fight, and with only five of us, the odds are not in our favor. Do you have any more men? Benders, preferably."

Harn shook his head. "No benders, unfortunately. But Doran can scrounge up as many as twenty strapping young lads in need of a good dust-up. And I can supply you with enough blasting powder to make a few sizable holes. All I ask is that you try to get everyone out alive – my people are not expendable."

Sokka was impressed. Blasting powder was strictly regulated by the Fire Nation, and its chemical formula was a highly classified state secret. "I won't ask you how you got your hands on that," Sokka said, grinning. "But I'll take all you've got. I can think of a few ways to put it to good use. And as for your men, I can't promise that there won't be casualties. We'll be outnumbered and facing some powerful firebenders, which is never an easy fight. But I've never viewed my soldiers as expendable, and I won't start now. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal." Harn spat on his palm and extended his hand. Sokka did the same. Then he rolled up his sleeves and turned to the maps. "I'll need small objects to mark our positions, a quill to write with, and every bit of information you've got on the mercenaries guarding Lao Tsu's mansion," he snapped.

It was time to get to work.

oOoOo

Sokka's target, the merchant Lao Tsu, certainly spared no expense in his pursuit of luxury. His mansion, though located in Second District, looked like a palace in its own right. A stone walkway cut through a lush green lawn, and split to move around a stone fountain. There were lanterns on tall posts lining the road, giving the place an otherworldly glow. Marble steps led up to the front entrance, which was guarded by four men wearing the red-and-black armor of Fire Nation regulars. Their torches made them easy to locate in the darkness, and it also ruined their night vision – Sokka made a note to keep on the watch for more cleverly concealed guards. It would be stupid to get killed because he assumed that all the guards would announce their presence by carrying torches.

Livia shifted next to him, changing her balance ever so slightly. The two of them were perched low on the rooftop of one of the houses nearest Lao Tsu's mansion, and even now, they were over one hundred yards away from the gate marking the entrance to the merchant's property. Sokka handed his spyglass to Livia, who took her turn sizing up the estate.

"What do you think?" Sokka whispered. "What's our best point of entry?"

Livia pointed to the right of front lawn. "Over there – see that walled-off section? That's the garden. It's located near the room we think Rivana is being held."

"Probably less guards to worry about, too," Sokka agreed.

The assassin grinned at him. "What, is widdle Sokka worried about the nasty guards? Just stay behind me, I won't let you get hurt."

Sokka decided not to dignify that with an answer. He moved like a ghost to the edge of the roof, let himself down carefully, and dropped to the cobbled street without making a sound. From the dark alley behind him emerged the rest of his team. Vetch the thief wore a suit of dark patches that made him blend seamlessly into the night. Doran and Fulco were decked out in full Fire Nation armor, and Sokka winced every time their booted feet came into contact with the street. Still, the disguises were worth the noise.

A small rush of air was the only warning, then Livia landed next to Sokka, graceful as a cat and just as self-satisfied.

"We're going over the garden wall," Sokka said, pitching his voice low. "Follow me." Getting to the wall was easy – although the front lawn was lit, the sections to the sides were not. Lao Tsu apparently believed that the thick walls he'd constructed, fifteen feet tall, would be enough to discourage thieves. Sokka blessed the man for his shortsightedness.

The four criminals – five, Sokka reminded himself, because he was certainly a criminal as well – skirted the main road until they were directly across from the wall. As they approached, Vetch began uncoiling a rope with a grappling hook attached to the end. Fulco made a sarcastic noise in the back of his throat.

"What?" the thief demanded, turning to the younger man. "You got a better idea?"

Fulco stepped forward, his eyes tightening with concentration, and stamped the ground with one foot. A platform large enough for all five of them slid out of the wall, quickly and silently as the wind. Sokka had to admit, it was an impressive display of control. Vetch looked from the platform to the rope in his hands, and back again.

"I reckon that'll work…" he muttered sheepishly. Doran clapped Vetch on the back, causing the little man to stagger.

"Don't sweat it, Vetch," the blacksmith-turned-enforcer whispered. "You're just not used to working with an earthbender, is all. I didn't know he could do that, either."

"No more talking," Sokka said, as they arranged themselves on the platform. He kept one hand on Doran's shoulder, because the bulky stone pots the man had strapped to his back were heavy, and Sokka didn't want him to slip. The amount of blasting powder the man was carrying was enough to blow a chunk the size of a small house out of the wall – Sokka had no intention of getting caught in the blast radius.

Fulco sent the platform slowly up the wall, pausing just below the top so that Sokka and Livia could look over. The garden enclosed by the wall was certainly beautiful. From the light shed by a single lantern hanging from a tree, Sokka could see flowerbeds and exotic plants from every nation. A man-made pond formed the centerpiece. The entrance to the house was at the far end of the garden, guarded by two Fire Nation mercenaries, their torches held high.

"Two of them," Sokka whispered. "Perfect. Livia, you and I will take them out. Fulco and Doran, stash the bodies and take their place guarding the door."

Doran grinned, looking extremely menacing in the insectile armor. "That pond looks deep enough to accommodate a few bodies," he said, hefting his spear a little higher.

"I don't know," Fulco said, eyeing the garden and its guards nervously. "There isn't much cover, and if the guards give the alarm, we're finished. You sure you can get to them?"

Sokka smiled, and noticed the same expression on Livia's face. The lantern in the center of the garden, which was the only light source aside from the guards' torches, was almost better than no illumination. There were shadows everywhere, cast by every bush and tree. Sokka was already picking out the path that would bring him closest to his targets without entering their line of sight. "I think you can leave it to us," he said.

"We're wasting time," Vetch complained. "I want to enough time on the inside to figure out where the merchant keeps the shiny stuff."

"You'll get it, you little vulture" Livia said fondly. "Come on, fearless leader. Let's see if you're more than just talk." She vaulted over the wall and disappeared from view. When Sokka followed suit, he lowered himself down with Vetch's rope, while Doran held it steady. He kept an eye on the torches, but they didn't move an inch, so the guards were oblivious to the slight motion at the edge of their vision. Then Sokka made his way to the first source of cover – a tangled tiger-vine bush one of the Fire Islands. He looked around, and the flash of motion near the pond told him where Livia must be.

The two of them moved between patches of cover with ease, stalking the two guards like viper-lions in the mountains. Finally they were close enough to make out the guards' faces, barely ten yards away. The Fire Nation soldiers were facing each other, speaking quietly. It was clear they didn't expect any trouble – Sokka was willing to bet they'd been chatting all night, instead of making the rounds of the garden.

He pulled out two throwing knives and signaled to Livia, flashing three fingers. _Three… two… one…_

His knives went flying, seeking the visor of the guard on the right. Sokka was moving as soon as the knives were released, ready to act if his weapons missed. But the slight hissing as the blades split the air drew the guard's attention, and he turned just in time for the first knife to sink hilt-deep in his eye socket. Livia moved even faster than Sokka would have guessed, snapping a long-handled whip forward toward the second guard. It wrapped around his neck with a sharp _crack_. He dropped his torch and scraped at the braided cord with his armored hands, but in vain. Livia pulled once, dragging him to his knees. She drew a knife from a concealed sheath and dispatched the second guard with ruthless efficiency.

Sokka retrieved his knives, while trying not to stare. Livia was _good_! He wondered how that whip would fare against fire-benders… maybe if it was made of chain-links, so it couldn't be burned up? He'd have to put some thought into that, but not now.

"Not bad," Livia said, coiling up her whip.

"Not bad yourself," Sokka replied, waving at the wall to summon Fulco, Doran, and Vetch. "It's nice to work with professionals again."

The three men arrived a second later, running through the garden without attempting stealth. Fulco looked impressed in spite of himself. Vetch nudged one guard with his foot, then stooped to rifle through his pockets.

"Really, Vetch?" Livia laughed. "The important stuff is all inside, under lock and key."

"Waste not, want not," the thief replied, holding up a small knife and examining it.

Doran carefully set down his two stone pots of blasting powder, and hefted the second corpse onto his shoulders. "I don't see why _I'm_ the one who ends up with all the heavy lifting!" he complained, walking over to the pond. "Fulco, grab that other fellow from Vetch and bring him over for a nice, refreshing swim."

Sokka took one last look around the garden, reassuring himself that they hadn't drawn any attention. "Doran, you're in charge out here. You two have the easy job – stand here and look ugly. Vetch, when we're inside, you stay behind me and Livia. Take whatever you want, but don't fall behind. We need you to unlock any doors we come across."

"Read you loud and clear, cap'n," the thief said in a sing-song voice. Sokka frowned, but something told him that expecting Vetch to follow orders without mouthing off was an exercise in futility. He turned toward the entrance to the mansion, leaving Doran and Fulco to dump the bodies and resume their posts.

They moved quickly through the darkened corridors of the mansion, following the layout they'd memorized from Harn's map. Sokka worried that they might run into servants or guards working the night shift inside, but they didn't see a soul. From the finery on the walls, it was clear that the merchant enjoyed displaying his wealth. Every now and again, Vetch veered to one side, causing yet another valuable to disappear into his seemingly bottomless pockets. But no matter what he picked up, he still made no sound as he moved.

Sokka was puzzled when they reached the door that was most likely to open into Rivana's quarters. There were no guards blocking the door, which seemed out of character for the merchant, especially considering the girl was being held against her will. But the door itself was heavily bolted from the outside.

"Vetch, if you would," Sokka gestured to the door with an elaborate bow. The thief advanced, magically producing his lockpicks from somewhere beneath his outfit. The picks made tiny, metallic clicks, and Sokka looked around nervously, hoping no one was around to hear.

"Aha!" Vetch exclaimed in a whisper, as the clasp around the door's handle unlocked.

Sokka eased the door open and walked inside. The room was wide and spacious, and definitely intended for a female inhabitant. The carpets and wall hangings were brilliant scarlet and gold, and a bed with a gauzy white curtain surrounding it lay on the far wall. In front of the bed was a woman brandishing a poker from the fire place.

Sokka could see instantly why the merchant had been so captivated. Rivana was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her long, black hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face with eyes a man could drown in. Her silk nightgown didn't do much to hide a stunning figure, and with the poker raised threateningly she looked like a warrior goddess from stories – albeit a warrior goddess recently awoken from slumber. Sokka realized he was staring like a fool, and coughed apologetically.

"Rivana?" he whispered. "We're here to rescue you. Your brother is waiting outside."

The hope that came into her eyes was painful to watch. "Fulco's here?" she breathed.

Livia stepped forward, moving slowly to keep from startling the other woman. "That's right, your brother's here. The fumblefoot is probably going to get us all killed, but that's beside the point. Is there anything here you can't live without?"

Rivana shook her head, smiling through a few tears that threatened to fall. She shook them away impatiently. "Just let me get a coat and shoes." As she was turning away, she seemed to remember something. "Oh – what did you do with the guards?"

Whatever good feeling Sokka had disappeared faster than a sugar-lump down an ostrich-horse's gullet. "What guards?" he snapped, wheeling to face the entrance.

Livia beat him to the corridor by a split second. Rivana didn't need to answer – two guards had been approaching down the long hallway, both holding muffins in each hand. When they saw Livia and Sokka, they froze. One guard's jaw dropped, and a bit of half-chewed muffin fell to the floor. The quiet sound spurred them into action. The guards began running in the opposite direction, shouting for all they were worth.

"Help! Kidnappers! Defend the Lady Rivana!"

Sokka exchanged an incredulous glance with Livia. Real pair of fearless warriors, those two.

"No time to catch them," Sokka said, "and it's too late to keep the rest of the guards away. Time to move."

Vetch and Rivana joined them, the latter wearing sturdy shoes, a bulky coat over her nightgown, and a determined expression. "Let's go. I won't spend another minute in this damned house."

They ran for the entrance, but they hadn't gotten far when a shrill alarm split the air. Sokka cursed, then ran faster. They reached the entrance in seconds, where Doran and Fulco awaited them.

"Riv!" Fulco and his sister embraced, but Sokka pulled them apart.

"None of that until we're safely away!" he snapped at the younger man. "You're my earthbender, so bend already! Doran, get those fuses lit. We're about to have company."

The sound of men shouting from within the house grew louder. Rivana watched curiously as the former ironsmith set fire to two fuses, one long and one short attached to the stone pots he'd been carrying. "What are those?" she asked.

"A housewarming gift," Sokka said grimly. "Rivana, where does the merchant sleep, would you say?"

"His rooms are on the top floor, near the back," she replied, pointing.

"You heard her, Fulco," Sokka said. "Would you do the honors?"

The earthbender smiled in a way that wasn't very nice at all. "My pleasure." He stamped the earth, and one of the stone pots shot into the air. He punched towards it, and the pot went sailing away in the direction Rivana had indicated. A huge explosion rent the night air, illuminating the mansion like a firework from hell. The upper floor of the mansion caved in, and fire began to send its hungry fingers skyward. Doran let out a small cheer, and Rivana's blissful smile shined brightly.

"Nice shot, but the other one's still lit," Vetch pointed out nervously. "Shouldn't we be running away?"

"We should, at that," Sokka replied. The fuse was burning lower with each passing second. They took off towards the outer wall, leaving the pot of blasting powder at the entrance. Just as they reached the wall, the pot exploded, generating such force that Vetch and Rivana were knocked off their feet. The door and surrounding wall were obliterated, and the entrance to the garden became a flaming barricade.

"That ought to keep them off our trail," Sokka said with satisfaction. "Fulco, get us out of here." The twin explosions ought to be causing havoc for the soldiers trapped inside – especially if the first blow had managed to ignite the merchant's sleeping quarters. Sokka wouldn't shed a tear if the rich, kidnapping bastard was cooked in his sleep. He spared a second to hope that no servants would be caught in the blast, but as long as there were firebenders in the mercenary company, the burning house wouldn't be much more than an inconvenience.

Fulco created a small opening at the base of the wall, demonstrating power that Sokka had not yet seen from him. Fulco and Rivana were just about to leave, their hands clasped tightly together, when Livia whispered urgently to Sokka, "We've got company."

With a muffled curse, Sokka turned back to look at the entrance to the garden. The flames were still raging, but out of the heart of the conflagration came five armored figures. The flames veered away at their command, and they vaulted over the wreckage with impressive acrobatics. Sokka's curse was louder the second time.

Firebenders.

"Fulco and Livia, with me," Sokka snapped. "Doran, take Rivana and Vetch and meet up with your boys beyond the wall. Get her back to Harn in one piece – we'll join you as soon as we've cleaned up the mess."

"No!" Rivana shouted. "Fulco, you can't!"

The young earthbender gave his sister a bone-crushing hug, but stepped away a mere second later. "There's no choice," he said firmly. "Don't worry about us. I've only just got you back – I promise I'm not going to lose you again."

Doran pulled her away, urgently but gently, and they disappeared into the night. Livia and Sokka nodded to each other, and took up positions between Fulco and the approaching firebenders.

"Keep them from flanking us, Fulco," Sokka called out, "and don't let them close with you."

Livia cracked her whip once, while Sokka loosened the ties to the knives inside his sleeves. They dropped securely into his hands, and he launched them at the two benders in the center of the enemy formation. They were forced to jump apart, three in one direction and two in another. Then Fulco displayed a surprising knowledge of tactics by earthbending a wall of rock between the two groups. He sent the wall moving toward the group of three, while Sokka and Livia charged at the remaining two.

The firebenders were caught by surprise – they must not have been expecting a full-on attack, especially when their opponents were outnumbered. Sokka kept the man on the right busy with a volley of knives, while Livia advanced on the second bender. He tried to fry her with a direct blast, but Livia ducked and rolled to the left, then brought her whip up and around. It wrapped around the bender's outstretched hand, and she jerked him forward and off-balance. Sorrow was already clearing Sokka's scabbard, and the black sword sheared through armor, skin, and bone, taking off his opponent's arm at the elbow. The man screamed in pain, dropping to his knees and clutching at his stump. Sokka lunged at the second bender without missing a beat, but he was forced to break away to avoid a trio of giant fireballs.

Livia approached him from the left, circling him like some hunting cat. The reason for the circling became obvious a second later, when a small, round stone came hurtling out of nowhere to hit the firebender's helmet with a _clang_. He jerked his head around involuntarily, and Livia pounced. The whip wrapped around his midsection, and Livia rushed in to finish the job.

Sokka moved to support her, his eyes scanning the garden for the other three firebenders who would doubtless have avoided Fulco's moving barrier by now. Sure enough, a firebender came flying through the air, thick bars of fire shooting from his fingertips. Livia just managed to jam a small knife into her opponent's open visor when Sokka tackled her, bearing her to the ground mere inches before the fire washed over their previous position. The hapless guard, who had just been stabbed, was now covered in flames, and his screams abruptly cut off.

Sokka rolled and came to his feet, throwing a knife with his free hand to keep the third bender from following up with another fire attack. Sokka was hoping for another distraction from Fulco, but nothing happened. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Fulco was engaged in a deadly game of cat and mouse with one of the surviving benders, a women who dodged his earth attacks with surprising grace. The final bender emerged from the shadows, joining the one who faced Sokka and Livia.

Apparently the deaths of their comrades had taught them to be wary, because they approached Sokka and Livia as a team. They hemmed the two in with cones of fire on both sides, cutting off any possibility of splitting up. Livia charged first, lashing out with her whip to halt the benders' advance. They jumped to the side, and both reacted with short-range bursts of fire. Livia couldn't bring back her whip in time, so it was caught in the blast and charred to a crisp. She cast aside the useless handle with a grunt.

Sokka once again reached for the pouch in his belt, but instead of a knife he brought out a small brown pouch. He threw it at the bender closest him, who met it with a line of fire as thick as Sokka's body. When it the pouch, however, there was a blinding explosion that gouged a hole in the earth and destroyed everyone's visibility for a moment. Sokka threw himself forward with all his speed, executing a diving roll that brought him through the debris and within range of his target's legs. Sorrow lashed out in a tight arc, the miraculous metal shearing through the bender's legs with no more resistance than slicing through a bale of hay. Sokka finished the man on the backstroke, straightening so his return swing neatly separated his enemy's head from his shoulders.

The other bender was dead as well, one arm wrapped securely in… a whip of thin metal links, all connected to a black oak handle. Sokka raised an eyebrow at Livia.

"What?" she shrugged. "The leather whip handles better, but the metal one doesn't char if it takes a hit from a firebender."

"No argument here," Sokka replied. Then he took a second look at Livia's outfit, which clung tightly to the assassin's lithe body. "But where were you _keeping _it?"

She only grinned. "Let's save Fulco and get the hell out of here."

But as it turned out, Fulco needed no help. He was standing next to the pool, and his opponent was half-buried by a huge boulder. Her eyes had turned glassy in death.

"She was fast as a viper," Fulco gasped, breathless, "but I can be fast too."

"I see that, kid," Sokka said, ignoring the earthbender's annoyed glance. "I think we're done here. Let's get back to that sister of yours, what do you say?"

They left at a swift run, once Sokka wiped Sorrow and on the grass and resheathed it, and Livia finished coiling her metal whip. Sokka looked back once before he left through the gap in the wall, taking in the sight of the bodies strewn throughout the garden, and the great mansion in flames. He permitted himself a small smile.

_Not a bad night's work._

oOoOo

Once safely back in Skully's Inn, Sokka was able to relax. Harn was waiting with a celebratory bottle of whiskey, which Doran wasted no time in opening. They moved to the room on the second floor, where everyone explained to Rivana how they had put together the rescue.

The thieves were wonderful about praising Fulco, and Rivana broke down multiple times while hearing of her brother's hardships. The earthbender's normally sulky face was wreathed in smiles, and Sokka was enjoying seeing the two of them together that he almost forgot about what Harn had promised him. But the Beggar King of Ba Sing Se approached him, a smile transforming his age-roughened face.

"I see now that your reputation is entirely deserved," he said, patting Sokka on the back. "You've brought all of my people back, and done some serious damage in the process. Not only that, but Vetch tells me it was quite a profitable night."

Vetch paused for a moment, putting down his drink long enough to flip a gold coin over to Sokka. "Your cut," he grunted. "Spend it well – on wine and women."

Sokka pocketed the coin with a word of thanks, but his attention was wholly on Harn. "So now we come to it," the old man said. "Your information about the Order."

Sokka leaned forward in his chair, his breath catching. After all his searching, had he found his destination?

"Omashu," Harn said, keeping his voice low. "That's where you'll find them. There's a woman lives down in the Smoke Quarter. She reads palms, tells fortunes and the like. Ask around for the Seer – most anyone in that quarter will know who you mean. Go in, ask her for your fortune, and show her your lotus tile. She'll put you in contact with the Order."

"A seer in the Smoke Quarter?" Sokka repeated. It was hard to keep his voice steady, and he burned to be gone already. But he had fought alongside these thieves and cutthroats, and he wanted to enjoy their success a while longer. Watching Fulco and Rivana reunited made him happier than he'd been since Katara died.

It was a reminder of what he was fighting for – all of the brothers and sisters who still had each other, the families whose freedom he could restore.

Fulco approached them, breaking Sokka out of his reverie. He extended his hand, and his wide grin drew a matching one from Sokka.

"I can't thank you enough," he choked out. "My sister is free because of you."

"Because of all of us," Sokka corrected. "And even if I hadn't shown up, you would have freed her just the same. I just… sped up the process a bit."

"I'll say you did at that," Harn added. "But I think what young Fulco here is trying to say is this: we're at your service. The next time you have a job needs doing, something requiring our particular skills, send word to Skully here at the inn."

"I just may take you up on that," Sokka said, and meant it. He could imagine a whole host of things which Harn's people could help him with – it was almost enough to make him drool with anticipation. Too bad he probably wouldn't be able to recruit them to his cause, but with a solid crew behind him, even if just for one job, there were many fascinating new possibilities.

He would have to think about them, when he was on the road.

Harn stole the bottle of whiskey from Vetch, and poured a round for himself, Sokka, and Fulco. "Drink up, my friends! Tomorrow, I'm sure, you'll leave us for your foolish journey, but for tonight we celebrate!"

Sokka raised his glass, when Harn cocked his head. "Oh yes," he said as an afterthought. "Make sure to give my regards to the Seer when you meet her. It's been a long time since we've seen each other." He gave a gruff bark of laughter. "Excuse me, that was imprecise. She's never actually _seen_ me. She's blind, you see."

Sokka spat out a mouthful of whiskey straight into Fulco's face. Sokka spluttered just as much as Fulco. "Wait – did you say she's _blind_?!"

"That's right," Harn said, chuckling as Fulco wiped his face and glared at Sokka. "She's got these beautiful, dark eyes, but she can't see a thing. Didn't seem to slow her down, though – I swear, she seemed as spry as… well, as you or me. Thought she was faking it at first, you know? Pretending for the effect, see?"

To illustrate his point, Harn pulled down his own eyepatch and winked a perfectly sound eye at Sokka. "But it's true, she can't see a damned thing. Must have been blind all her life, to have developed her other senses so well."

Sokka gripped the sides of his chair with all his might, willing himself to remain calm.

_It might not be her, _he told himself sternly. _There are a lot of blind women, and you don't want to get your hopes up only to be crushed when it's not her._

But the hope refused to go away, and Sokka knew he would not sleep a wink that night, too eager to be gone at first light. Omashu was where he would take the next step on his journey, and now he had more to look forward to even than the prospect of finding the Order of the White Lotus.

Sokka had watched many friends die over the years, and had many disappear, never to return. Only now, one whom he'd consigned to death might still be alive.

_I'm on my way, Toph, _Sokka thought, speaking silently to a girl who still burned brightly in his memory. _Wait for me._


End file.
